


The Patron Saint of Broken Things

by Kate_Shepard



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Paragade Commander Shepard, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Shakarian - Freeform, graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6320986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a kink meme prompt (can't find the link). Prompt was essentially: What if, instead of always being at the exact same point in the Archangel recruitment mission, Shepard doesn't go after Archangel right away and Garrus is captured and later found somewhere like Purgatory?  </p><p>This fic is Shakarian, but it's really, really dark for a while before it gets better. Read at your own risk. This Shepard is mostly paragon with her crew, renegade with enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updated 6/1/16.
> 
> BioWare owns the Mass Effect universe and all characters. I just play with it for my own entertainment.

Shepard nudged a piece of blackened concrete with a booted foot and tried to ignore the sick roiling in her gut as she looked around the battered remains of the empty mercenary base. She cursed as she took in the dried splatters of blood decorating the walls, floors, and ceilings like a morbid painting. “Poor bastards,” Miranda muttered and guilt flared within her. Overturned, scorched furniture littered the floors and the shredded stuffing of cushions floated in the greasy Omega air. Shards of broken plateware glittered in what was once the kitchen. A bookshelf teetered precariously against one wall. In one of the downstairs bedrooms, dark purple blood was splashed across a mattress, adding its color to the macabre rainbow that coated walls, ceiling, and floors across the base. _Too late. Too late. Too late_ , echoed inside her mind.

She cursed the foolish pride that had led her to go against Miranda and the Illusive Man’s recommendation of coming first to Omega and instead had sent her to the Citadel and then to Tuchanka and Illium in the hopes of recruiting Wrex and Liara, the only ones of her former crew she could locate, and then on to Korlus where she'd found Grunt. She didn’t want this ragtag team of misfits and criminals Cerberus was trying to push onto her. She had a team and she wanted them. She wondered who she was kidding as heavy steps carried her up the scorched staircase. She wanted Garrus. There was no one else she could trust at her six. She’d hoped that she would find him on the Citadel in spite of the Illusive Man’s claims of his disappearance from C-Sec but no one knew where he was. It was as if he’d ceased to exist shortly after she had.

If she had listened to Miranda and the Illusive Man and had come to Omega first rather than stubbornly refusing to follow anything that sounded like an order from Cerberus, she might have been able to stop the apparent slaughter that had taken place here. From the intel provided in the dossier and by Aria, this Archangel had sounded like someone Shepard would have wanted to know, a turian with an eerily familiar mindset to one she’d known in a past life. _Don’t go there, Shepard,_ she chided herself. Garrus was probably back on Palaven with his family. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why Cerberus hadn’t been able to track him down and that was both the most likely and the most logical. The group wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with the turians and probably couldn’t get much in the way of information from their homeworld. Idealistic turians who took matters into their own hands were rare but Garrus was by no means the only one with that mindset.

She’d wasted time holding on to the past and now an innocent man was dead. Out of all of the names on her list, Archangel and Mordin were likely the only ones who could truly claim that descriptor and she wasn’t entirely certain of the salarian. Archangel, though, had lived up to his name. Naïve, idealistic, and perhaps somewhat foolish to be sure but, rather than complaining about the lawlessness and the mistreatment of innocents on the station, he’d done something about it. He’d been good, too. It had taken all three of Omega’s merc groups to take him out and, from what Aria had said, it had been a long and bloody battle ended only by Tarak’s gunship while she was on Tuchanka. _Too late. Too late. Too late._ He’d been an enigma as well. Even the self-proclaimed queen of Omega hadn’t known who he was, only that he was a turian and not a native to the station.

Her eyes scanned the base with forced military detachment. She could easily see why it had taken the combined efforts of the three major merc groups on the station to infiltrate it. The location and the defenses told her that Archangel had also had military training. That wasn’t surprising given what she knew about turian culture. It was a perfect nest for a sniper. With the tunnels below blocked off, the only access into the compound was across a bridge that served as a funnel from which even a single sniper could defend his or her position on the high balcony that overlooked it.

However, a few explosives placed in the right locations had turned the basement tunnel system into a vulnerable back door and the expansive lower floor meant that there were too many angles of attack once inside for one person to cover. Add in the gunship that was the only thing that could have left the floor and walls bullet-ridden and rocket-scarred in that particular trajectory, and Archangel had been hopelessly outmatched. Even she could not have held out forever against that kind of resistance.

 _Garrus and I could have,_ her mind insisted. She pushed the errant thought away again. It must have been Aria’s mention of the fact that Archangel had been turian which had Garrus planted so firmly in her mind right now. There was no reason for her friend to come to Omega. He’d been on the Citadel for Spectre training when she’d died. Something must have happened to make him forego it. From what he’d told her, she suspected that his father had found out and called him home. A human might have ignored the order, but in turian culture that would have been unthinkable. If his father had ordered him home, he’d have gone. Garrus was nothing if not dutiful and loyal.

Shepard didn’t know why she had come to this place. There was nothing to be found here and Miranda and Zaeed were looking at her like they were trying to determine whether she was completely sane or not. It was a fair question, she decided as she picked her way over the shattered remains of a potted plant. She wasn’t quite sure of the answer herself. Could someone die and be resurrected without losing at least a little bit of their sanity? She didn’t exactly have a support group she could turn to in order to ask.

Her steps faltered when she reached what looked like the barracks room where the final standoff had taken place. The windows had been broken out and splinters of glass glittered under the lights. What used to be a couch stood reeking and burned in the middle of the common area and a terminal off to the side beeped a warning. The bunks at the other end of the room were overturned and the floor beside the window and the balcony railing was littered with spent heat sinks, ration packs, and empty stim vials. The detritus spoke of a long and lonely battle.

The thing that caught her eye, however, was not the mess but the lone, heartbreaking point of order among the chaos. Sheltered in an alcove was a double row of silent figures draped in white sheets. She went quietly to them and very carefully drew back the first of the sheets stained in blood in dark, dried shades of blue, purple, orange, green, and red. Shepard was no fan of batarians but even she couldn’t hold back the wince as she recognized the painted stones laid over the victim’s empty sockets. Batarians believed that the soul left the body through the eyes. Removing them was the most insulting act one could do to one of their species. She glanced up at Miranda and said, “Do you know that crazy preacher near the markets? The one who’s always warning that the end is nigh?” When the woman nodded, she said, “Go get him for me.”

Miranda asked, “Commander, what are you doing? We don’t have time for this.”

“We make time,” Shepard said as she moved to the next body. This one was an asari. Her hand was laid over the batarian. A salarian lay beside her and a human male was next to him. Shepard didn’t stop until she had looked in the faces of each of the dead. A part of her felt slightly ridiculous but another part said that someone needed to remember them. Her heart kicked at the last one, a young girl who couldn’t yet have been out of her teens. She clutched a Blasto action figure in her cold hands and the positioning of her body made Shepard think that Archangel had been trying to protect her even in death. Her hands shook as she covered the child once more.

Miranda left and Zaeed helped Shepard go through the terminals and datapads in search of information. She was able to piece together the identities of most of the squad and found next of kin for a few of them. The Cerberus operative returned with the batarian preacher who removed the body of the deceased batarian whom he identified as Vortash and the asari Mierin whom he said was Vortash’s bondmate. Miranda had also contacted Mordin's assistant and made arrangements for the rest to be moved to the clinic. Shepard accompanied them and personally saw to the cremation of the ones whose families could not be identified. These were someone’s people and she stood in for Archangel in his absence and bid them goodbye in his stead. Daniel promised to watch over the others until their families could retrieve them. She took it upon herself to contact them and make arrangements for the delivery of their bodies. The sight of Butler’s pregnant wife Nalah weeping over the vid comm made Shepard’s throat clench. She listened as the woman told her about the squad.

The barrel of a rifle caught her eye. She walked over to the discarded weapon as the woman continued to speak and drew it out of the nook in which it had fallen. The stock was smeared with dried cobalt blood and the scope was shattered but the weapon made her breath evaporate and the sudden vacuum in her lungs sent knives pelting through her chest as her fingers sought out the engraving she somehow knew would be carved into the butt of the Mantis sniper rifle. Her mind and heart rejected what her body already knew even as her fingertips traced the outline of the turian symbol, the crest that her former teammate had told her identified clan Vakarian of Cipitrine.

The screaming denial caught in her throat and choked her as she doubled over in a pain so deep that it made burning through Alchera’s atmosphere while suffocating to death seem merely unpleasant in comparison. She fought for control as she heard a voice she didn’t recognize as her own repeating, “No, no, no, no. Not Garrus. Not Garrus. No. No. No. Please be alive, Garrus. Please be alive. Zaeed! Sweep the building again. We’re missing two turians!” She knew it was useless to hope. Garrus wouldn’t relinquish his rifle. He was dead and it was her own damn fault. _Too late,_ her traitorous mind chanted, _too late, too late, and all because of your own foolish pride. Garrus is dead because of you._ The sound that tore out of her was nothing human and she couldn’t even begin to care that the Illusive Man's pet and a merc she’d just met were witnessing her unraveling.

Since waking on that table and discovering that everything she’d ever known had changed, one thought had sustained her: _I’ll find Garrus and it will all be okay._ She hadn’t cared that the Illusive Man had vetoed using Liara’s apparently new contacts with the Shadow Broker. She was going to find her friend and, through her, locate Garrus. With him by her side, she was unstoppable. It wouldn’t matter that her ship had been lost with twenty souls aboard, that she herself had died, that Tali had looked at her like a stranger when they’d met on Freedom’s Progress, that Kaidan had called her a traitor on Horizon. Garrus, with his unflagging idealism and intensity of spirit, would make a joke, chew her ass about working with Cerberus, and then follow her into hell with his customary, ‘I’m right behind you, Shepard,’ and all would be right with her world.

That would never happen. The _Normandy_ was gone, the new one only an expensive copy. She had died and lost everything. Her friends had moved on. The one person she’d ever come close to feeling anything she could remotely describe as love, the one she’d have given her life for not because of the mission but because she couldn’t bear to exist in a galaxy where he didn’t, was dead and it was her fault. 

She was suddenly glad she’d been brought back for a suicide mission. She would do her duty. She would defeat the Collectors and save the colonists and she would gladly give her life to do so. _Wait for me at the bar, Garrus,_ she thought. _I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry._ But first she would find those who did this and she would make them pay. The mission would just have to wait.

“There’s nobody here, Commander,” Zaeed said. “I’m seeing turian blood and a lot of it but no body. Your friend has likely been taken captive. He’d be better off goddamn dead.”

When Shepard rose from the ashes, her face was hard and cold and Miranda didn’t know whether to be relieved or perturbed at the clear intent written there. Shepard had been called many things in her lifetime and most of them were harsh. Those things were the reason why the Illusive Man had chosen to spend billions of credits to bring her back.

Miranda had come to know the soldier better than she knew herself over the past two years and one of the things that she had learned was that, while the woman was completely ruthless and showed no mercy to her enemies, she was fiercely loyal to and protective of those few she considered friends. Commander Shepard, first human Spectre, savior of the Citadel, and Butcher of Torfan, had just declared war on Omega and Miranda knew her well enough to know that nothing short of the control chip the Illusive Man had denied or the invasion of the Reapers themselves would stop her.

That didn’t stop her from trying. “Shepard,” she said as soothingly as she could, “I know that you’re upset about your friend but we have a mission.”

When Shepard turned on her, the glow of the cybernetics behind her eyes cast a demonic look to her features that made Miranda suppress a superstitious shudder. “Upset?” Shepard asked coldly. “You think I’m upset?”

“Commander,” Miranda said, holding her hands up in a gesture of peace.

“Upset doesn’t begin to cover it, Operative Lawson,” Shepard said, drawing herself up to her full height—a diminutive one that was completely overshadowed by the force of her personality. “Death itself will fear me before I am finished with this station.”

Miranda and Zaeed exchanged a look and the operative was disturbed to find a wide grin on the bounty hunter’s face. “This is going to be more goddamn fun than I’ve had in years,” he said with relish. “I’m with you, Shepard.”

“You know Garrus?” the woman Shepard had forgotten on the comm said suddenly.

Shepard squared her shoulders and looked solidly at the wavering image of the woman on her omni-tool. “Garrus Vakarian helped me defeat Saren, Sovereign, and the geth. He’s my best friend and my right hand. I need you to think, Mrs. Butler, because I have to find him if he's still alive. Tell me everything you know about these mercenary groups.”

“Butler told me everything,” Nalah said. “I can tell you where their bases are. I can tell you where they would be likely to take him. Meet me in the VIP section of Afterlife in three hours and I’ll tell you everything. Tell the bouncer Jaruut sent you.”

“I’ll be there,” she promised and turned to Zaeed. “I want everything you know about the Blue Suns. You’re going to help us infiltrate them.” His grin would have been chilling if the sadistic glee in it hadn’t matched her own fierce determination.

___

Afterlife’s VIP section was very similar to the main section of the club. It was too loud, too bright, and the scents were too cloying. Nalah Butler stood out like a sore thumb. The woman held herself remarkably together as she passed Shepard a datapad with everything she could recall from conversations with her husband and the squad. She was thorough and informative and Shepard’s grin as she read through held the same predatory edge as Zaeed’s had a few hours before. She thanked the woman and the crew returned to the _Normandy_ where she gathered her patchwork squad in the briefing room along with Dr. Chakwas, Joker, and Kelly Chambers. She wasn’t fond of the yeoman but the woman was a psychologist and, though unlikely, could possibly provide insight into helping Garrus work through whatever had occurred over the past two years if he was still alive. Dr. Chakwas would need to be prepared to provide whatever medical treatment was necessary once he was recovered. Judging by the amount of cobalt blood spilled in the base, it would be extensive.

Shepard looked at her new crew and sighed. They weren’t much, but then, neither had the old crew been when they first came together. She could see a little bit of Wrex in the grizzled mercenary and a hint of Liara in the salarian doctor. Jacob was so much like Kaidan that it was eerie and Miranda reminded her a bit of Ash but with more confidence and without Williams’ warmer nature. Grunt, well, she wasn't sure what to make of him yet but he was certainly bloodthirsty enough. At least Thane was an assassin. Maybe, just maybe, they could pull this off after all. She certainly hoped so as nothing they’d done together thus far could possibly prepare them as a team for what they were about to attempt. She wasn’t looking forward to going back into the Blood Pack's territory but consoled herself that they’d at least made a significant dent in their numbers. Eclipse and the Blue Suns were a different story altogether.

She fought down the sense of urgency that hummed in her veins and told her that she was wasting precious time. They couldn’t afford to rush this. Garrus couldn’t afford for her to rush this. She simply had to hope that he could afford for her to take her time and get it right. _Too late. Too late. Too late. Not Garrus. Not dead. Not Garrus._ She’d been on her damn way. She was too late and now his blood was decorating the base in which he’d lived and worked and laughed and planned with his own crew for longer than he’d been with hers. She had to steel herself against the image of his squad and the way that her mind tried to overlay the faces of her own loved ones: Tali, Liara, Ash, Garrus onto the faces of his dead.

She didn’t know what had happened to make him leave the Citadel and strike off on his own in the Terminus nor to drive him to form the squad and take on the mantle of Archangel but she thought that he couldn’t have changed so much that she would be off the mark in assuming the depth of his grief would match her own if she’d lost her people. _What happened to you, Garrus? Where are you? Are you with the twelfth man? Is some of the blood there his or is it all yours? Is he another victim or a perpetrator? You’d be able to cast a single glance around the room and answer all of my questions where all I can do is wonder._ It had been a long time since she’d felt genuine fear for another but it was bitter in her mouth now.

She didn’t waste words or offer explanations. She simply said, “I’m going to take down the Blue Suns, Eclipse, and Blood Pack. This isn’t part of our primary objective. Anyone who doesn’t want to help may leave now.”

“The victim was a friend of yours?” the drell asked quietly. She nodded and he fixed her with a steady look. “My arm is yours, Commander.”

Grunt slammed his meaty fists together and stomped a foot. “Lead the way, Battlemaster,” he said.

Samara stepped forward and said in a soft voice, “I swore an oath to follow you, but I must know: is this justice you plan, Shepard, or revenge?”

“Both,” Shepard said. “There is no law on Omega. Vigilante justice is all there is. Garrus was trying to do good here and they very likely have murdered him for it. There are no courts to try, convict, and sentence them. Therefore, as a Council Spectre, I will judge them and carry out the sentence. That he was my friend means that there will be no quarter and no mercy.”

“Quarter and mercy are things no enemy should receive in any case,” Samara said. “I will join you.”

Jacob finally spoke up and said, “He was a mercenary, Commander. I don’t care if he thought he was some kind of Robin Hood. He stole. He killed. He was a criminal just like the rest. Count me out.” With that, he turned and left. Miranda cocked an eyebrow and shook her head. She didn’t blame him for leaving. However, she thought his choice of words unwise. 

“Wrong,” Mordin said. “I was there. Archangel good for Omega. Stole weapons that would have gone on the streets. Stopped drugs from leaving. Took down a serial killer. Met him once. Patched him up. Good man. Good team. I’ll help.” 

Kasumi uncloaked beside Shepard and asked, “Is this your Keiji?”

“Yeah, Kasumi,” Shepard said in a tired voice. “He was.”

Kasumi nodded and said, “You helped me kill Hock. I’ll help you.”

Shepard looked at Miranda and said, “Well?”

Miranda sighed and shook her head again. Shepard had saved her sister. She’d proven herself entirely capable, if stubborn, and until now had run this mission with ruthless efficiency and without taking her eye off the goal. She’d given her crew everything and had helped each of them with something that had nothing to do with the mission but which had been important to them personally. Miranda couldn’t deny her this one. “I’m with you, Commander.”

“Good,” she said. “Now, this is what we’re going to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard gets revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic descriptions of violence and non-con here. You've been warned.

“We’ve got movement,” Shepard whispered into her comm as they approached the Blood Pack base. Nalah had identified its leader Garm as the one most likely to hold a personal grudge against Archangel and the most likely to kill him quickly should he have Garrus held captive. Shepard had brought in the entire team for this and had broken them into squads. Zaeed accompanied her while Miranda led the second team with Thane and Grunt and Mordin led a third with Samara and Kasumi so that each of the other teams had someone who was familiar with the area. Mordin and Zaeed had given her a layout of the station along with the locations of hideouts and bases for each of the three mercenary groups. The teams split up and took different routes through Blood Pack territory before simultaneously converging on their headquarters.

Zaeed slunk back into the shadows with her as the vorcha passed by their location. Shepard saw the merc sneer and shake his head. He mumbled something about a goddamn waste once the vorcha was out of earshot and they continued deeper into the facility. She ignored him as she utilized the VI on her rifle scope to scan for life signs. “Any sign of him, EDI?” she whispered into the comm.

“Negative, Commander. I am detecting nothing matching a turian life form within the base,” the AI replied. “If Officer Vakarian is still alive, he is not here. I have, however, located Garm. Marking his location on your map.”

Shepard’s stomach clenched. He had to be alive. The news, however, did make her job easier. “Good. Teams Two and Three, converge on those coordinates. Sweep and clear but leave the krogan to me.”

“Affirmative,” Miranda answered.

Team Two was closer to Garm’s location than to hers and gunfire was already ringing off the walls when they arrived. A quick overview of the room told her that Miranda, Thane, and Grunt were holding their own. She continued on to the center of the base where EDI showed Garm’s location. The Blood Pack leader was easily the largest krogan she’d ever seen and he didn’t even have the grace to look perturbed when she and Zaeed moved into the room. Zaeed whispered something about the head plate and she nodded. He’d already given her that little tip. She’d use it if she needed to. She’d use anything she needed to in order to find out where Garrus was.

Garm gave a gravelly laugh when he saw them and his gaze flicked dismissively over the rifle and heavy pistol pointed in his direction. Her sniper rifle was useless at this range, but the incendiary ammo she’d loaded into the pistol combined with the plasma balls her omni-tool fired and Zaeed’s concussive rounds should be sufficient to take down his barriers and prevent him from regenerating. He was alone in the room which made things easier on her as well. Two on one wasn’t great odds with any krogan, let alone one this big, but he was old enough to be arrogant while simultaneously still young enough to be stupid. “Where’s Archangel?” she demanded.

“Oh, you want a piece of him, too?” the krogan asked with a toothy grin. “I’m afraid you’re too late, human. Archangel’s dead. Haven’t you heard?”

Shepard ignored the dread and fear that twisted in her gut. Instead, she nodded. “Zaeed.”

The merc fired a concussive round that met with her plasma ball and knocked out Garm’s barriers. The krogan roared and charged. Shepard rolled out of the way and fired another burning orb at him as she did. She could hear the steady report of Zaeed’s assault rifle and a moment later the cough of her pistol. Her shields flickered when Garm fired his shotgun at her but didn’t fall completely. She crouched behind a counter to allow them to recharge fully before leaning out to cover Zaeed so that he could do the same. Garm didn’t seem to be able to decide which of them to target and they took advantage of his distraction. When he charged her again, she activated her tactical cloak and dodged to the side before spinning back around and using his momentum to shove him to his knees. They wrestled him into a chair and tied him down securely.

His black-toothed grin turned leering when he finally put the pieces together and realized that her interest in Archangel was personal. Her stomach churned when he began to describe in vivid detail the atrocities he had forced her friend to suffer. “Have you ever seen a krogan dick?” he asked almost conversationally. “Big around as my wrist and looks damn good coated in blue turian blood. And, oh, how he bled, heh, heh, heh. Screamed, too. Like the bitch we turned him into. Krogan, vorcha, batarian, he took it all. Thought about throwing him to the varren but they didn’t seem interested.”

Shepard swallowed the bile that burned the back of her throat and aimed a feral grin at Garm. “You know,” she said silkily, “I haven’t had that pleasure. You seem so proud of yours. Why don’t you show me?”

“Oh, I’ll show you, human,” he said lecherously. “Come to papa and I’ll give you a taste of what I gave your friend.”

She kept her eyes locked on his red ones as she cut through his underarmor. The slits of his pupils narrowed and she was gratified by the hint of fear she saw there. She supposed he was probably regretting calling attention to his genitalia by now but he had attained his position by being brutal, not by being smart. “I grew up on Mindoir,” she said in a conversational tone. “My parents died when I was younger but I do have fond memories of them. My dad was a hunter and I was a daddy’s girl who wanted nothing more than to make him proud. He taught me how to use a rifle and I talked him into taking me deer hunting with him. My first kill was this huge buck. Deer are large, four-legged herbivores and the males have these really big, pointy antlers on their heads, by the way. I took him down with a single shot through the eye and I was so proud when Dad told me I was a real hunter.”

“What does some animal have to do with me fucking you senseless, you human cunt?” Garm growled.

“I’m getting there,” she said as she thoughtfully eyed his massive genitals. She remembered Garrus telling her that krogan had four testicles. He hadn’t mentioned they were the size of softballs or that the dick itself was as big around as the krogan’s wrist. The idea of this thing tearing into her friend and the damage that had been done to him made her sick. She kept that off of her face, though, as she looked up from her position between his knees. “So, I killed the buck and my father told me that I had to take a trophy. I’d thought he meant the antlers. Instead, he flipped the creature onto its back and cut off its dick and balls, tied a string around them, and tied them around my neck and then smeared its blood on my face.”

Garm’s eyes widened and she grinned widely. Now he was getting it. Zaeed stepped in and placed his own blade against the krogan’s head plate. Garm bellowed in rage as it nicked the soft skin. “Don’t fucking move,” Zaeed snarled. 

“What did you do with his body?” she asked.

“Fuck you,” Garm said.

“Wrong answer.” Shepard wasn’t gentle or careful as she used her knife to transform the massive krogan into a eunuch. She didn’t stop until she’d hit the pubic bones and ensured that she had removed every bit of reproductive tissue from his body. “Regenerate that, motherfucker,” she said as she took a length of rope and tied it around her trophy. Very deliberately, she reached out and gathered his orange blood onto her fingertips and traced them over her face in the closest approximation of Garrus’ colony markings she could get with her facial structure and without a mirror. In a low, deadly voice, she said, “I’m going to ask you one more time, Garm. Where. Is. Archangel?”

“I don’t know!” he screamed. When she pressed the blade to the plate on his head, he wailed, “Jaroth! Tarak hit him with the gunship and he went down. They said he was dead but Jaroth’s been bragging about having Archangel at his mercy. Let me go!”

“No,” she said firmly and twisted the blade. His scream was cut off with a wet sucking sound as the brow plate clattered to the floor.

Zaeed sucked in a breath and said, “Goddamn, Shepard. Hope I never get on your bad side.”

She looked up at him with a feral gleam in her eye and said, “Don’t worry. If you ever do, I’ll remind you of the consequences. Aria has her rules. I have mine. Don’t fuck with Shepard’s family.” She spat on Garm’s corpse and rose to her feet. “String him up where everyone can see,” she ordered. 

The moment they’d left Blood Pack territory, Shepard ripped the reeking member from around her neck and threw it into one of the burning piles of trash that littered the area with a shudder. Mordin passed her a cloth he’d soaked in water and she used it to wash off the markings she’d drawn. “Think I made enough of a statement?” she asked.

Grunt laughed low and said, “You sure you don’t have any krogan in you, Shepard?”

His words conjured an image in her mind and she excused herself to one of the public restrooms in a nearby shop. As soon as the door closed behind her, she leaned over the toilet and retched until her stomach was empty and her body shook. She was no stranger to violence but she had never before tortured someone like that. She’d been ruthless and a bit of a renegade before she’d died but it was more a matter of pragmatism, lack of tolerance for bullshit, and a determination to get the job done no matter the cost. She didn’t enjoy hurting people for the hell of it. The sadistic glee she’d felt when dealing with Garm had been almost maniacal. 

“You’re losing it, Shepard,” she muttered to her reflection in the mirror. She’d allowed Dr. Chakwas to remove the scars on her face but in the dim light, the glow of the cybernetics behind her eyes was evident and eerie and made her wonder if she really was, in fact, human. Garrus would have known but Garrus was dead and not just dead but tortured in ways she couldn’t begin to imagine, ways that made what she’d been through in her time with the Reds after being brought to Earth look like child’s play. She splashed water on her face to wash away the rest of the krogan’s blood before leaving the questionable haven of the filthy restroom. She needed to be focused to face Eclipse. 

___

Infiltrating the Blue Suns’ base was far easier than the Blood Pack and Eclipse. The latter had been a fight but one that hadn’t revealed anything except that Jaroth didn’t know where Archangel was. By now, Shepard’s patience was running thin. She had, however, enjoyed watching Jaroth burn after turning their mechs against them. Zaeed’s name was all that was necessary to gain entrance to the Blue Suns’ hideout. He was greeted like an old friend and Shepard felt a moment of unease as he settled in with his mercenary buddies. She’d left Miranda and Jacob behind on this one as neither of them could reasonably pass for any type of mercenary. That left herself, Grunt, and Mordin on their own should Zaeed choose to turn on them. She hid all of these doubts behind the casual command pose that was her default stance and said a quick thanks to the reconstruction that had left her skin far more immobile that what she was accustomed to but also granted her an excellent poker face.

She glanced around the room with an air of disinterest. Tarak hadn’t yet joined them but Cathka and Jentha seemed more than happy to keep Zaeed company. Shepard was almost surprised by Jentha’s seeming friendliness toward her. The woman appeared glad to meet another female mercenary who wasn’t an asari and Shepard didn’t disabuse her of the notion. They traded war stories and Shepard found herself drawing off of experiences with mercenaries that she’d killed to do so. If Zaeed was surprised by her ability to fabricate tales, he didn’t show it. Mordin remained uncustomarily silent but the others appeared to take his taciturn appearance in stride. Shepard was impressed by how disdainful the salarian could appear when he chose to do so. 

The batarian leader of the Suns entered the room and Zaeed rose from the couch on which he’d been lounging to greet Tarak with outstretched arms. Mordin moved over to Cathka and Shepard stepped behind Jentha. A single shot coughed from Mordin’s pistol as the crack of breaking bone filtered through the room followed by the dull thud of Jentha’s body hitting the floor. Tarak spun around with a look of astonished rage and Zaeed grabbed him by the throat and wrists. He held the batarian still as Shepard sauntered up to him and cocked her head in the way that indicated insult. Tarak growled and struggled against Zaeed but the merc kneed him in the side and said, “Nobody said you could move, asshole.”

Shepard asked simply, “Where is Archangel?”

Tarak snorted. “Who the hell are you, human?”

She stepped up and answered softly, “Your worst nightmare.” She drew the knife that still bore traces of Garm’s blood and held it up to the light. “You’re the one who cut out Vortash’s eyes, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he ground out. 

“The batarian with the asari bondmate,” she said without taking her eyes from the knife she held. His own eyes followed her movements and she saw him swallow behind Zaeed’s hand. “The soul of the dead escapes through the eyes, am I right? So by cutting his out you were attempting to, what, lock him into his body for eternity? I’m afraid I’m not that familiar with batarian religious beliefs. What does it mean for a batarian to die without his eyes?”

“Why would a human care?” he grumbled.

“Vortash was a…friend of a friend. My friend cares. Therefore, I care,” she answered. Her tone was conversational as she continued, “Humans have a saying. ‘An eye for an eye. A life for a life.’ I’ve been told that an eye for an eye leaves the world blind but you batarians have so many of them. I’m sure you wouldn’t miss one.” With that, she buried the blade into one of the smaller orbs over his primary set of eyes. He screamed like Garm and tried valiantly to jerk himself from Zaeed’s grasp. “Where is Archangel?” she asked.

“Fuck you, human!” he shouted.

She grinned and read the fear in him. “So many eyes,” she repeated. “So many windows to the soul. What happens when those windows are shuttered forever?” 

“Jaroth!” he shouted when she began to carve at his lower eye. “Jaroth has him!”

“You know,” she said without stopping, “that’s what Garm said, too. Unfortunately, Jaroth has been turned into salarian bacon and he gave me your name. I’ve never liked batarian eyes,” she said as if she were revealing a great secret. “I can still remember the eyes of the one who killed my mother. Do you know who I am, Tarak?”

“You’re insane!” he charged as he tried to back away from her. Zaeed kicked him again. “Zaeed! Help me! She’s crazy!”

“You’re goddamn right she is,” Zaeed said. “I think I’m in love.”

“Do you know who I am, Tarak?” she asked again in the same low voice she’d used with Garm. “I’m Commander Shepard. You might know me better as…”

“The butcher of Torfan,” he breathed as his remaining eyes went wide in his face. His shoulders slumped as he recognized the hopelessness of his situation. 

“Precisely. Now that you know who you’re dealing with, I think this would be a good time to start cooperating. Don’t you?”

“What do you want?” he asked dully.

“I want Archangel,” she answered darkly. “Tell whoever has him to bring him and, if I find his condition acceptable when he arrives, I’ll give you the courtesy of killing you before I finish blinding you. If I don’t, you will get to experience every mark on Archangel with which I take issue. Then I’ll finish cutting your eyes out. Then I’ll make you beg for death.”

“I sold him to Kuril on the prison ship Purgatory,” Tarak said in defeat. “They left two weeks ago.”

“Prove it,” she said coldly.

Tarak gestured to a datapad sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. Mordin picked it up and began to scroll through. He nodded. “Record of transfer. Single turian male sold to Warden Kuril for sum of fifty thousand credits.”

“Move your hand, Zaeed,” she said. The merc obeyed and Shepard sliced the batarian’s throat in a single fluid movement. She knelt beside his body and drove her knife into the remaining eyes and said, “Rot in hell, asshole.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Purgatory

The trip to _Purgatory_ took far too long for Shepard’s liking even with Joker pushing the _Normandy_ as far as she would go. She had expected Miranda to balk but since they had another crewmember to pick up from the prison ship anyway, the XO held her tongue. To Shepard’s surprise, she even began to work on negotiating Garrus’ addition to what turned out to be a purchase. _Purgatory_ had been on Shepard’s list of destinations. She’d been avoiding it because she still hadn’t decided whether she wanted a convict on her team, no matter how good his biotics were. She had Miranda, Jacob, Thane, and Samara. She didn’t really need another. However, if there was any chance that Garrus was still alive, she was going to the prison ship and she might as well rescue the convict while she was there.

Zaeed and Joker were the only ones with the balls to approach her during the trip. The remainder of the crew gave her a wide berth and watched her with wary eyes. Shepard wondered who had told them about her retribution and thought it must have been Jacob. The soldier was too much like Kaidan and had disapproved of her methods. Shepard couldn’t bring herself to care. Even the yeoman seemed afraid to speak to her. 

Miranda came to the bridge as they were making their approach to the prison ship. The tense lines around her mouth and eyes didn’t bode well and Shepard’s suspicions were confirmed when Miranda revealed that her negotiations had been unsuccessful. The warden had seemingly taken a personal interest in his new prisoner and refused to part with him for any price that Cerberus was willing to pay. Shepard shrugged indolently and said, “Then we’ll take him by force.”

“Commander,” the operative protested, “we don’t have the manpower to begin a war aboard a prison ship.”

“And here I thought you knew everything about me,” Shepard said. “You brought me back because I can accomplish the impossible. If we can’t take _Purgatory_ with our current squad, then we have no hope against the Collectors regardless of how many people we add. However, I have no intention of starting a war. We’re going to steal him.”

“I’ve never stolen a turian before,” Kasumi said, uncloaking beside Shepard. “I have stolen a human child once, though. This will be a delightful challenge.”

Miranda looked at the little thief in surprise and then smiled reluctantly and dipped her head. “It seems you’re a step ahead of me, Commander,” she conceded.

“Docking with _Purgatory_ ,” Joker said. “The boarding party has been cleared.” Kasumi cloaked once more and Shepard was joined by Zaeed, Mordin, and Grunt in the airlock. Jacob would stay aboard in case issues arose. 

Her patience was already razor thin and when she was instructed to relinquish her weapons, her reply came out colder than she’d intended. “I’ll relinquish one bullet. Where do you want it?”

A single look at the warden was enough to tell her that this place was trouble. It should have come as no surprise that Kuril was barefaced. She could almost hear Garrus’ voice in her ear saying, “Remember the last barefaced turian you met?” She distrusted the warden instantly despite his seemingly casual air. She sent Miranda with him to broker the transfer between the prison and Cerberus and she, Zaeed, Grunt, and Mordin continued deeper into the ship. The issue was going to be finding him. She didn’t know if he was being kept in a holding cell or in cryo like Jack or, please gods no, somewhere in Kuril’s or the guards’ private quarters.

Kasumi’s voice came over the comm and said, “Up ahead, Shep. There’s a turian being…interrogated…in one of the windowed cells. It could be him.” She hesitated and then said, “Shep, he’s in bad shape.”

“Acknowledged,” Shepard said. “I’ll check it out.”

She found a guard standing watch outside of one of the glass cells. Inside was a human man viciously beating a turian prisoner. She understood instantly why Kasumi was uncertain as to his identity. The turian's plates were gray but they were dull and so covered in grime that they looked almost brown. He was emaciated and the skin between his plates sagged in a way that she had never seen before. Her mind tried to reject what she saw as she took in the cowering figure. His arm was broken and bone pressed up against the skin, warping the plates on his forearm. One side of his face, shoulder, and chest looked like blue hamburger meat and one of his spurs was shorter than the other and bore a fresh scar across the top. The ends of his fringe sat at an odd angle and she thought they were probably broken. The dark underarmor he wore was plastered to his body in places and hung off of him in others. His face was turned away from her and, while she’d have sworn once that she could identify Garrus under any circumstances, she herself couldn’t be sure that this was her old crewmate.

The largest change was not to his body. The man before her was broken in a way that went beyond the physical. Early in her career, Shepard had come across a group who, among other things, ran a varren fighting pit. These varren weren’t like the ones on Tuchanka which were treated as pets, well-fed, trained, and cared for even after retirement. These were starved and beaten into a savage state until all traces of domesticity were purged from their beings. She’d had no choice but to put them down. It was those varren that she saw now. This turian had nothing of himself left there. The Garrus she knew would have fought tooth and talon against this treatment. This turian didn’t resist but to attempt to cover his face and head with battered, spindly arms. He cowered and flinched from the blows but made no effort to fight back or even to get away. She could hear the low keening wail he gave even through the glass partition and it scraped against her bones. This couldn’t be her Garrus. Everything in her rejected the sight of this broken man even as her eyes traced the line of plates over his spine that insisted they were familiar and the sound of his voice reverberated in her ears, shattered but recognizable.

The guard spared her a single glance before shifting in place and giving a bored sigh. She clenched her fists as she considered her options. Having Kasumi steal him away wouldn’t work. He couldn’t walk on his own and she’d be forced to kill the guards to get to him. That would raise the alarm and set the entire prison on alert. She would have to find another way. First, however, she had to convince the guards to stop beating him. She couldn’t bear the sick thud of the baton on his flesh a moment longer. “Stop this,” she said. The guard argued with her but she intimidated him into giving the order to leave the prisoner alone. Shepard memorized their faces and silently swore retribution. 

The human guard came out and said, “Damn it, Hierax, I was just getting started! The boss wants him softened up.” He paused and looked at Shepard. “Ah. That’s a damn shame. You got a turian fetish or just an Archangel fetish, sweetheart? If it’s the first, Hierax over here would give you a better time. I’m afraid all this cuttlebone does is lay there and whimper. Even the boss is getting bored.”

Shepard bit back her nausea at the implications and fought the pity that tried to rise. Garrus wouldn’t want her pity. He would be ashamed by it. It took everything she had to turn away and continue to the room where she would find Jack. They’d retrieve the biotic and then she would send Mordin, Grunt, Miranda, and Zaeed to clear the way back to the Normandy while she and Kasumi rescued Garrus. It wasn’t much of a plan, but they were fortunately still close enough to the docking bay that she thought it should be fairly simple to execute. The other team would take the heat off and Shepard and Kasumi could use their cloaks to hide Garrus. She just hoped he was in good enough condition to help them because she wasn’t looking forward to having to carry him. She knew that she could do it. She’d done it once before when he’d been injured on the field and he’d been in top condition then and in heavy armor. He’d weigh significantly less now but it would still make her job a lot easier if he could help.

Any hope of this being a simple mission went out the window the moment the door opened to reveal the holding cell Kuril wanted to put her in. He wasn’t a fool; she’d give the warden that. He’d clearly put two and two together and figured out the identity of Archangel. “Just think,” he crowed, “how much I could charge for Commander Shepard and her loyal sidekick Vakarian as a matched pair! I could sell the two of you and live like a king!”

She said the only thing she could think of to protect him, disloyal as it made her feel. “That isn’t Vakarian. That’s just some pathetic turian that looks a little bit like him.” She desperately hoped she sounded convincing. She wouldn’t convince Kuril that he wasn’t Garrus but if she could convince him that she didn’t believe he was, then he wouldn’t be as likely to expect her to go after him. 

Releasing the prisoners in order to get to Jack provided an extra layer of protection for Garrus. Shepard sent Kasumi to guard his cell while she and the rest of the squad worked their way through the ship. As much as she wanted to go directly to him, she had to deal with Kuril first. Word could not be allowed to get out that Garrus Vakarian was Archangel and that he was still alive and in her presence. He would never be safe again. She felt a sadistic glee as she lit up the guard who’d beaten him and heard his screams as he burned. Breaking the fringe of the guard who’d watched gave her even more satisfaction. She wished that she had time to toy with Kuril but she settled for prying his plates apart and removing the offending portion of his anatomy with which he’d tortured her crewmate before putting a bullet in his brain.

Shepard sent Miranda to deal with Jack while she went back for Garrus. Kasumi uncloaked at the doorway as Miranda said over the comm, “Shepard, we have a problem.”

“What is it?” she snapped.

“Jack apparently has a history with Cerberus and is not inclined to come with us,” her XO stated. “She’s demanding access to classified records.”

“Grant it,” Shepard said tersely. “Give her whatever the hell she wants. Just deal with it. I’m a little busy here, Miranda.”

“But Shepard,” Miranda protested.

“Do not argue with me, Operative Lawson,” she growled. “My tolerance for defiance is at an end.”

“Yes, Commander,” Miranda said meekly.

___

“Mordin, can you fix this?” she asked.

“Can’t say without scans. External physical damage looks reparable. Internal and psychological damage problematic,” he answered. “Also, turian stress response likely. Sufficient trauma with no relief from stress can cause feral state. Behaviors instinctive, not logical. Proceed with caution. Not the person you knew.”

“I want to know everything you do about that once we’re back on the ship,” she said. “For now, though, we’re getting him out of here.” 

Shepard took a deep breath and entered the enclosure. The first thing that hit her was the smell. The pungent odor of waste and filth slammed into her like a wave. Her eyes watered and she almost gagged. Garrus’ station back on the old Normandy had always been kept in a state of organized chaos but had never been truly messy and, while he didn’t mind getting dirty, he didn’t stay that way for long. He was fastidious about cleanliness and had told her once that grime buildup under the thicker plates of skin could cause irritation and infection and their sense of smell was particularly keen, so turians in general were very compulsive about cleanliness. He would hate being kept in this condition. 

Garrus skittered across the floor and pressed himself into the corner with his arms over his face. Sorrow churned in her gut as she knelt down in front of him. He seemed to be waiting for something, likely a blow, and when it didn’t come, he peered out between his arms with a dull blue eye. He muttered something that sounded like her name followed by “dead.” She winced at the sight of his mangled mandible and the bright blue wounds streaking his face and neck before disappearing down into his collar. He looked nothing like the idealistic turian C-Sec agent who’d followed her across the galaxy two years before. His face had aged and lost its innocence and the look in his blue eyes was haunted. The lack of his ever-present visor made him look naked. The only part of him that looked like the Garrus she once knew was the bold blue colony mark on his good mandible.

“I was,” she said. “But I’m here now. Come on, honey. Come with me. You’re safe now.”

He recoiled from her outstretched hand and began keening again as he rocked himself slightly. “Not real. Not real. Not real,” he muttered.

“Garrus, look at me,” she said gently but without disguising the order in her tone. “I’m real. I’m here. I came back. I’ve even got the scars to prove it.” He looked up reluctantly and she held her hand out to him again. This time, rather than flinch away, he tilted his head back and bared his throat to her in the turian gesture of submission and surrender. “Don’t do that,” she said more sharply than she’d intended. “Don’t submit to me. I won’t hurt you, Garrus. Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here. Let’s go home.”

“Home is dead,” he said dully. “You’re dead. The Normandy’s dead. My squad…my squad is dead.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I saw them. Come with me, Garrus. Let me help you.”

Very slowly, he lowered his arms and raised his head. There was no flicker of recognition in his eyes, just a bleak acceptance of whatever fate had decided to throw at him now. She longed to pull him into her arms and tell him it would all be okay but this wasn’t the time or place. She had to get him out of here. She edged closer and he flinched. She remembered what Mordin had said about him being in a feral state and very slowly raised her hand. His arms jerked up and he keened before hesitantly lowering them again when the expected blow didn’t come. 

“It’s me, Garrus. Smell me,” she said, hoping that her scent hadn’t changed since being brought back. He kept his eyes locked on her as he hesitantly shifted forward. She saw his nasal plates shift as he scented the air around her. She didn’t move and he came closer until his face was by her hand. He made a broken sound then and scrambled onto his good hand and knees. He leaned into her and she remained very still as his nose skimmed over her neck and jaw and up into her hair. The sounds coming from his chest weren’t quite a whine, but she got the impression that he was crying all the same. She turned her head to look at him and leaned her forehead against his with a sigh. “What are we going to do with you, big guy?” she asked softly. He rubbed his forehead against hers and some of the tension seemed to flow out of him.

This time when she reached out, he allowed her to slide her arm under his uninjured shoulder and lever him up. His movements were sluggish and jerky with none of his former grace but he was able to stand. The keening in his throat continued and pierced her heart but he came with her obediently. When Kasumi moved in to give her a hand, she shook her head once as his clipped talons clenched against her arm and the thief backed away. They shuffled their way to the loading dock with Shepard making soothing noises that she hoped pierced through to wherever he had disappeared to.

There was another tense moment when Garrus caught sight of Zaeed. His eyes honed in on the Blue Suns tattoo on the mercenary’s neck and the keening grew louder. He stopped in his tracks and shot her a look that could only be betrayal as he tried to pull away from her. “No,” she said, holding him. “Zaeed is a friend. He isn’t with them anymore. He helped me rescue you and he helped me kill Tarak.”

“Tarak is dead?” Garrus asked quietly, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“He’s very, very dead,” she assured him. “Slowly, painfully dead. So are Garm and Jaroth and Kuril.”

Some of the tension seemed to bleed from him at her words but he muttered, “Doesn’t matter. Too late for the others. Too late for me.”

Her stomach twisted as he put her thoughts into words and guilt reared its ugly head. _I’m sorry,_ she wanted to say. _I didn’t know it was you. If I’d known, I’d have moved heaven and earth to get to you._ The words died on her tongue. There was nothing she could say to ease his pain so she said nothing. He cast another wary glance at Zaeed but shuffled along beside her toward the ship before stopping again and staring at the frigate. “This is the new _Normandy_ ,” she said. “She got rebuilt, too. Come on, big guy. I’ll introduce you.”

“It’s just a copy,” he said. “Not real. Like you.”

“I’m real, Garrus,” she said as they waited through the decon cycle. “I’m me. I’m the same Shepard that fought beside you against Saren and Sovereign. We killed a Reaper, remember? I’m the same Shepard that used to talk to you while you worked on the Mako that you always complained about me beating up. Do you remember that?”

“Couldn’t drive for shit,” he muttered distantly.

“That’s right,” she said. “You used to ask where I got my training and if a tendency toward suicide was required of Alliance soldiers before they could be allowed to get their license but when we were barreling toward the Conduit, you had a huge grin on your face and you were laughing right alongside me while Liara prayed to her goddess and Tali groaned and gripped onto the seats and even Wrex insisted he was going to be sick.”

“Shepard,” he breathed. 

“I’m alive,” she said. “It’s over, Garrus. You’re safe now. We’re even for all of those times you pulled my ass out of the fire.”

“How?” he asked dully.

She hesitated and then said, “Cerberus brought me back. I’ll explain everything later but now we need to get you to the med bay. You remember Dr. Chakwas, right? She’s here. She’ll get you patched up.”

“No doctors,” he insisted suddenly. “No med bay.”

He looked so agitated that she couldn’t tell him no. “Okay, no med bay. But Dr. Chakwas has to treat you. You’re hurt, Garrus.”

“I deserve worse,” he said, hanging his head. “My fault. It’s all my fault.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus returns to the Normandy

Shepard had loved Garrus for almost as long as she’d known him. He’d never exhibited anything that she could describe as interest during the mission but there had been that one night on shore leave shortly before the attack. He’d returned to the Citadel to work for C-Sec again while he underwent Spectre qualifications with the intention of returning to the _Normandy_ to train under her if the Council allowed it. She had been tasked with finding and eliminating pockets of geth resistance. They had come in to resupply and she’d met up with Garrus for drinks at Flux. 

One drink had led to two as they’d caught up on recent events and then three as they’d reminisced. The bartender had refused to let them pay and so they’d decided on a fourth. When Shepard started to sway in her seat and Garrus had begun to slur, he’d suggested that she stay at his place rather than paying for a hotel to get a few nights in a real bed. It had sounded like a good idea at the time, so they’d leaned heavily on each other and made their way to a skycar. 

His apartment had been small and full of the organized chaos he’d kept contained to his workspace on the _Normandy_. The table had been covered with pieces from a gun he’d taken apart to work on and his desk chair had been disassembled and the pieces to that were spread in a neat circle around the desk. The desk itself was littered with datapads. However, the kitchen had been spotless and the bed had been made. They’d sat together on the couch with his arm still around her shoulders and he’d called up the new _Citadel_ vid that had just come out but that neither of them had yet watched.

They had laughed at parts and nitpicked the changes from reality. She learned that they’d used actual footage from her speech before Ilos and Garrus had nudged her and nodded approvingly. They both grew a little misty over Virmire and had spent several minutes remembering Kaidan and then laughing a little at the way the lieutenant had followed her around like a lost varren pup. She hadn’t made it all the way through the vid before the comfort of Garrus’ arm around her and the warmth of his body had lulled her to sleep. 

She had woken to him carrying her into his bedroom and laying her gently on his bed. He’d pulled off her boots and tucked her in before turning to go. She had reached out and grabbed his hand with a whispered, “Stay,” and he’d looked at her in surprise before removing his own boots and climbing hesitantly in beside her. She remembered the way he’d gathered her into his arms. There was a hesitance there, but something else as well. It had been almost as if he’d wanted to do exactly that for months but had held back. 

They’d slept in each other’s arms and when they woke the next day, there was no awkwardness between them. It had seemed as natural as breathing to wake up beside each other and spend the day together. That night, he hadn’t hesitated before getting into bed beside her. There hadn’t been sex but there had been intimacy in sharing space that way for the days while she was on the station. He’d taken off from his work at C-Sec and Pressly had been handling the resupply so they’d had four glorious days together. It had been the last time she’d seen him.

___

She led him into the elevator and keyed the code to her floor before instructing EDI to send the doctor up. The AI agreed and she helped Garrus into her cabin. He slumped against her and she noticed for the first time that he reeked of blood and human sweat and something else she didn’t want to identify. She carried him into the cramped bathroom and arranged him in the shower stall where she used her knife to carefully cut and peel away the tattered remains of the fabric adhered to his plates. He came to as she was drawing the blade down the material over his waist and he let out a sound that was too close to a scream. She instantly threw the knife aside and held up her hands. 

“I have to get these clothes off of you,” she said soothingly. “I need to clean you up. I won’t hurt you. I promise. Trust me. Do you trust me?” His breathing was fast and shallow and his eyes were wider than she’d ever seen them but he nodded almost imperceptibly. “Good. I won’t use the knife if you don’t want me to but I’m going to need your help. I don’t want to jostle your spur any more than I have to. Can you get your pants off or is it okay if I cut them? I have scissors.”

He gave another slight nod and she turned to search through the drawer behind her until she found the blunt-tipped medical shears. His eyes locked onto the twin blades and his hands clenched into fists. She cautiously clipped away the material and tried to ignore the quick intake of breath as she worked the fabric off of his shortened spur. When she went to pull the remnants of the pants down over his hips, he winced and looked away from her with his mandible clenched tightly against his face. She recognized the source of his expression when the fabric refused to give and swallowed back a curse that rose on a hot ball in her throat. She wished that she could go back and spend more time with the sadistic warden but knew that her anger was not what Garrus needed right now. 

She kept her face smooth as she used a wet cloth to loosen the fabric from his body. The trickles of water ran dark blue from the dried blood that had congealed and glued it to his skin. When she had stayed with him, she’d noticed that he used a soap that reminded her of pumice but she didn’t have anything like that and thought it would be too rough on his battered skin anyway. Mordin had said he would be comforted by her scent and part of that was from her soap and shampoo so she decided he wouldn’t mind if she used her own on him. The washcloth caught on his rougher skin and she quickly gave up on the idea of using it and tossed it aside before pouring soap onto her bare hands. She used her fingernails to remove the worst of the caked-on dirt and clumps of blood and to get between his plates. It was incredibly intimate to be doing this for him, though there was nothing sexual about it. The simple act of cleaning him like this, of touching every inch of his body, felt like something one would do for a partner, not just a lover.

He'd either passed out or retreated inward again, so she rolled him carefully onto his chest and used a towel to prop his head up off of the floor as she worked on his back. Her fingers noted every scar that marred his skin. She hesitated when she reached his lower back. His genitalia were stored internally so she hadn’t felt inappropriate when she’d cleaned his groin plates as they’d been tightly closed. However, remembering what Garm had said, she was afraid that touching anywhere near his ass would be a violation. Still, he was filthy and she couldn’t leave him like that. She also wouldn’t ask a male to come in and do it for her even if Mordin was a doctor. She wouldn’t risk having him wake and think that he was being abused again.

Her brow furrowed as she scrubbed at the darkened skin. The worst of the dirt had come off but it was still darker than it should have been. She rinsed the lather off for a third time and then grew still as she realized what she was looking at. She’d never seen a bruise on a turian before. She had imagined them being blue but this was closer to black. It spread over his ass, his hips, and the backs of his thighs. There were new scars along the dip of his hips as well that made her think he’d been forcibly held down. She saw distinctively finger-shaped bruises along the inner edge of the plates over his ass as if he’d been pried open and her vision blurred.

The first drop of hot moisture that trailed down her face confused her and she looked up to see if the shower was leaking. It wasn’t, of course, and when she lowered her head, more moisture poured from her eyes. She swiped at her face with the back of a hand. Commander Shepard didn’t cry and Garrus would never accept her pity. It would make him feel ashamed and that was the last thing he needed on top of everything else. She moved down his legs, taking extra care with his shortened spur, and realized the tip of it had been cut off and sewn up. “Oh, honey,” she murmured softly, “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

She cleaned his feet, noting the shortened talons on his toes that matched the ones on his fingers, before moving back up his body. She’d avoided his face and head but it needed cleaning as well. She bathed the back of his neck, making sure to get between the plates covering his spine and the underside of his fringe where she felt more scar tissue and a few open wounds. She knew the fringe was sensitive and had cultural significance. He’d let her touch the top of it once but stopped her before she’d gotten to the underside. His embarrassed chuckle had told her everything she needed to know. He’d also played with her hair and had avoided the nape of her neck until she’d asked him why and he’d explained that the spot just under the fringe was a particularly sensitive and intimate erogenous zone. The talon marks there were a cruel parody of that intimacy and made her heart lurch.

She rolled him onto his back and maneuvered his head into her lap so that the ragged fringe lay in the hollow of her legs. Rather than direct the spray onto him, she collected water in her hands and gently poured it over his face, avoiding his eyes, nose, and mouth. She then followed it with soap and carefully picked out the dirt embedded in the torn skin of his mandible and neck. It looked like his face had been ground into the floor and she winced with every piece of debris that came out. His mandible moved far too loosely and she tried not to jostle it.

She had just finished rinsing the soap from his face when she noticed that his eyes were open again and he’d tensed. He made a soft keening sound in the back of his throat and tilted his head back so that his neck was exposed to her. “No, honey,” she said gently, fighting back tears at the submissive response. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. Sit up, Garrus. It’s all right. I’m just getting you clean. We’re going to go into my cabin and my friend Mordin and Dr. Chakwas are going to fix you up, all right?”

He sat up, eyeing her warily, and then leaned in and nuzzled her hair. She felt the strands move as he scented her and then his forehead sought hers again. She leaned into it and he reached almost blindly for her. She drew him into her arms and said softly, “Hey, no crying,” as his voice broke and his breath began to come in ragged gasps. “You’re safe, Garrus. I’m here. You’re safe. It’s going to be all right.” She kept her voice low as she said, “Have I ever told you about Mindoir?” 

When he didn’t answer, she said, “You know batarian pirates raided the colony when I was a teenager and that I was the only one who survived. Everyone knows that. What they don’t know—what no one knows—is what happened between the time of the attack and the time that the Alliance arrived. I was captured.”

His eyes cut over to her before flashing away and she did her best to ignore the glance and keep her hands steady as she continued. “I watched my mother, father, twin brother, and little sister die. My parents were too old for them. My brother fought too hard. I tried to escape and take my sister but we were caught. I killed her with my bare hands to save her from them. In retaliation, they passed me around amongst themselves. They said they’d been planning on using my sister but that I would have to suffice. They raped me, Garrus, over and over and over again for days on end. And then I killed them, too." 

“Did it help?” he asked almost too quietly for her translator to pick up.

She considered her answer before saying, “I don’t know. I started killing and I’ve never stopped. I don’t know who I’d be if I hadn’t. It changed me. The killing, that is. The rape didn’t.”

“Why?” he asked.

“It didn’t mean anything,” she said. “It was just another kind of hitting. The body parts involved weren’t important or special. There’s only stigma involved if we allow it. How is a dick any different than a fist? It goes inside, sure, but so did their knives. The intimacy involved in sex comes from the relationship between the people involved. It’s just another kind of beating, Garrus, and it’s one I survived. You survived. Don’t be ashamed of that. Don’t be afraid for me to see you or to help you. You’ll get through this. We will get through this. Don’t look away.”

“I hate for you to see me like this,” he said with the first real heat to his voice that she had heard. 

“I know,” she finally said. “If you want me to go, I will. But don’t send me away because you’re ashamed. You did nothing wrong.”

“I did everything wrong,” he said sadly. “I tried to be you and I failed.”

“So did I,” she said. “I died, Garrus.”

“You saved your crew,” he countered. “I’d rather be dead.”

“Don’t say that,” she said vehemently. “I understand the sentiment. Trust me, I understand. But I need you here.”

“No one needs me,” he said flatly. 

“I do,” she said. “I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

He hung his head and said, “I have nothing left to give.”

“Bullshit,” she countered. Her tone was sharp but her hands on him were soft as she washed away weeks of dried blood and filth. His skin beneath his plates soaked up the water and began to tighten and she realized that he had been dangerously dehydrated. “You’ve already given me more than you know.”

He laughed bitterly and said, “What? Trouble and fighting?”

“A link,” she said. “A link to myself. Hope. Home. Family.”

“I’m not the same person you left on the Citadel,” he said wearily.

“Neither am I,” she said. “But we’ll figure it out together. It’s going to be all right.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dr. Chakwas wasn’t as skilled at hiding her reactions as Shepard was. Her face reflected everything that Shepard felt upon seeing her favorite turian battered and broken. The doctor registered dismay when Garrus cringed from her to hide behind Shepard. Her voice was gentle, though, when she said, “Come now, Garrus. I know my treatments haven’t always been comfortable but I’ve never harmed you. I have no intention of starting now. We need to get you to the med bay so that I can treat your injuries.”

“No,” he said tensely. 

“Why not?” Shepard asked patiently.

“My men,” he said miserably. “They’re lying there on that shithole. Rotting like meat.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, reaching up to cup his face. “No. You don’t truly think I would let that happen, do you? I told you I saw them. They’re at rest now.” His eyes met hers and there was a longing there to believe her. “Vortash and Mierin were taken by the batarian preacher. Butler’s wife retrieved his body and I contacted Ripper, Sensat, and Monteague’s families. Daniel, Mordin’s assistant, is taking care of them until they arrive. I couldn’t locate Weaver or Grundan’s families and I’m afraid I wasn’t certain whether the other was Erash or Sidonis but I couldn’t find families for either of them. We cremated the ones whose families we couldn’t locate. I don’t know how turians view it but I couldn’t just space them or leave them where they were.”

His face fell even further and he said, “I should have been the one…you shouldn’t have had to do that.”

She made a crooning noise and said, “If the crew, our crew, had been lost alongside me, I’d have expected you to stand in for me when I couldn’t. I know it’s been two years for you but it only feels like a few months for me. In my mind, I’m still your commanding officer. It was my duty and my honor to stand in for you. I just wish I’d known whether the salarian was Erash or Sidonis.” He winced at the final name and she said, “I didn’t find the last one. There were only ten. Maybe…maybe the other one is still alive. Maybe he survived, too. What?” 

Garrus was growling now. “The salarian was Erash. Sidonis was a turian. He…he betrayed me, betrayed the team.”

Anger and dismay rolled over her and, rather than push them down, she honed them into a weapon and passed it to him. “Then we’ll find him and we’ll kill him.”

“Commander,” the doctor chided softly, “are you sure that’s wise?”

Shepard spun on her heel without rising from her crouch and snapped, “What would you do? What would you do if Kaidan had betrayed us and gotten my team killed? What do you think I would do?”

The doctor bowed her head and said, “You would bring down the wrath of God upon his head.”

Shepard nodded tersely. “Precisely. This Sidonis is a dead man walking.”

Garrus straightened slightly and she bit back a grin. He had a purpose now. He wouldn’t give up. “ _I_ kill Sidonis, Shepard.”

“You’ve got to get well to do it,” she pointed out. “And when the time comes, I’d like to help.”

“Why?” he asked.

There were so many answers she could give. She said, “They were your team, Garrus, but you are mine and I almost lost you because of him. And…well, because I don’t think I’ll ever stop seeing that damn Blasto toy in Weaver’s hand.”

She regretted her statement as soon as it was out of her mouth. Grief passed over his features and he seemed to sink further into himself. He said softly, “She called me Dad.”

“We’ll avenge her,” she promised. “We’ll get justice for all of them. Treat him here, Doc.”

Garrus nodded and allowed her to pick him up off of the floor. The doctor brought a sheet to wrap around him and he leaned heavily against Shepard as she took him into her cabin. The walk was short but seemed to drain the last of his strength and the pain made him delirious. She laid him as carefully as she could onto the bed and, with the last of his energy, he reached out and caught her arm. “Stay,” he whispered. 

She turned back to him and said, “Always.” She pulled a chair over to the side of the bed where he could see her and looked away only while Chakwas treated the most intimate of his injuries. While he slept, she worked on her reports. She could focus better now that she knew that he was safe and would at least recover physically. If his body could heal then so could his mind. She had a good idea of what he was going through. She’d sent her unit to death on Torfan to stop the batarians and had lost twenty of the _Normandy_ crew in the attack that had killed her. It was a wonder that she’d even been able to connect with the new _Normandy_ crew at all. 

She knew that people thought of her as heartless, cold, calculating, and brutal after Torfan, especially given her tendency to solve problems with violence. She sometimes wondered that herself but when she thought of her crew she knew it wasn’t entirely true. She would send them into this suicide mission without a second thought because it was necessary the same way she’d sent her crew into the mines on Torfan for the same reason. However, like Torfan, she would be going into hell with them. They’d followed her because they’d believed in what they were doing just like her crew now believed in their mission and in her and she would die for them as readily as they would die for her. She loved. She just didn’t let that love get in the way of the mission. Until now. 

The truth of the matter was that, while Shepard wasn’t anti-human, she wasn’t particularly pro-human, either. She agreed with most of the rest of the galaxy that humans were entitled, pushy, self-centered, and arrogant. She had seen the worst of what humanity had to offer firsthand. If she were completely honest with herself, Garrus was more important to her than any human colony out there. She relied on him in a way that no one else had ever been able to claim. She was going to stop the Collectors. However, she was going to make damn sure that Garrus was taken care of first. Her mission was important but she wasn’t going to risk him unnecessarily by trying to rush. If they were going into a suicide mission, then she was going to make sure that she had done everything she could for him before they did. 

She sincerely hoped that didn’t mean admitting him into some sort of psychiatric facility but, if that was what it took, she would do it. She thought that, at least for now, familiarity of surroundings and people would be better for him than strangers who would poke and prod. There was no one here who hadn’t been through major trauma except, perhaps, Grunt. Soldiers could understand other soldiers better than any civilian ever could and her crew might technically be under Cerberus but they had all shown a willingness to open up to the alien crewmembers and accept them. Even Miranda, ice queen that she could be, had gone out of her way to help Garrus. Jacob was the only holdout and that had far less to do with Garrus being an alien and more to do with the way he’d spent the last two years.

“Shepard,” he said and there was a world of emotion in that one word. “You really need me?” She heard the barest flicker of hope in his voice.

“I really do. We’ll get through this together, Garrus,” she promised. “We’re a team. I can’t do this without you. There’s no Shepard without Vakarian.”

“Sure you could,” he said with a trace of his old humor. “Not as stylishly, of course.”

“‘Course not,” she said with a smile. 

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“Slap some face paint on there and no one will even notice,” she joked. If he were well, if the damage had all been physical, it would have started with, _Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly._ The old joke didn’t feel right now, though. She could see the insecurity in his eyes. “You’ll have some scars,” she said seriously, “but, hey, now we’re a matching pair.” He looked confused until she gestured to the web of faintly glowing scars covering her arms and legs.

“What happened to you?” he asked and she heard the anguish in his tone. “They said you were dead.”

“I was,” she said. “I got spaced. Liara had to steal my body from the Shadow Broker. He was trying to sell it to the Collectors. Cerberus told her that they could bring me back so she gave me to them and they did. It took two years. When I woke up, I tried to find you but no one knew where you were. I was sent to recruit Archangel but I didn’t know it was you until I found your rifle and later your visor. I came too late. If I’d just come for you first, none of this would have happened. I don’t know if I could have saved your team but I could have saved you. Hell, if I’d just gone after you before Horizon, I could have at least prevented you getting sent to Purgatory. I was _right there._

"I went to the Citadel first so that I could talk to Anderson and get reinstated as a Spectre. Then I went for Grunt because I was being stubborn and stupid. And then I got caught up running these stupid errands for Cerberus and then I went to Alchera because I thought that seeing the ship and collecting the bodies of the crew would give me some kind of peace. I got Mordin and Zaeed on Omega but I was told that Archangel had been killed so I marked it off the list. It never even occurred to me…I went back later to help Samara with something and decided to check out your base. I don’t even know why. I just…someone mentioned that Archangel was a turian and I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

“You found my visor?” he asked. 

She nodded and turned to the nightstand. “It’s broken,” she said, “but we can get it fixed. I found your rifle, too. It’s in the armor locker over there.”

She handed him the visor and he cradled it in his hands. A desperate wail tore itself from him and he began to shake almost violently. She cautiously moved to the bed beside him and began to stroke the top of his fringe, avoiding the places further back where it had been broken. He released the visor with one hand and wrapped his arm around her waist while he continued to clutch the broken reminder of who he’d been in the other. She laid down beside him and he moved until his face was buried in her neck. He sobbed out his grief into her hair and she held him through the storm, knowing that it would be the first of many to come.

“Easy,” she said soothingly, “easy. I know it hurts. You’re safe, honey. Just let it out.” She crooned to him, keeping up a steady stream of reassurances that she wasn’t sure he even understood at the moment, as she held him and her heart broke with each mournful cry.

“They slaughtered them, Shepard,” he said brokenly into her shoulder. “Weaver was just a kid. She called me Dad. They hurt her to get to me. Grundan and Butler were still alive when I got there. They made me…they made me bite Grundan. His throat. They took his eyes. Butler…they used my talons. Eviscerated him. I killed them. I didn’t fight hard enough and I killed them. And then…they captured me, took me to their base and they…they did things, Shepard.”

“I know, honey,” she said. 

“You weren’t supposed to know," he said. "You weren’t supposed to ever know.”

“Hush,” she said, holding him tighter. “Don’t you dare be ashamed of that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t fight,” he said again. “I was weak.”

“You were hurt,” she said. “Fighting would have only made it worse. You survived, sweetheart. You survived it and we are going to find Sidonis and we are going to make him pay.”

“How can you stand to touch me?” he asked in a broken voice. “I’m disgusting.”

“You’re beautiful,” she countered. “Do you think I’m disgusting?”

“Never,” he said. “You’re…everything.”

“Neither are you. It happened to you. Things that happen to you don’t define you, Garrus. The things that you do are what define you. The death of your squad happened to you. Your abuse happened to you. You did nothing to deserve that. What you’ve done is what’s important. You helped your people while you were in the military. You helped people while you were in C-Sec. You helped me save the whole damn galaxy from Sovereign. And then, when I died, you went to help the people who were the most helpless in the place that is the most hopeless. That’s special, Garrus. That’s the most beautiful tribute anyone could have given to my life. I’m so damn proud of you.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath and said, “You sound like you believe that.”

“I mean it,” she said, tilting his face up so that she could look at him. “I am proud of you, Garrus Vakarian. You did good, honey. Trusting your crew is never a failure. You have to trust them or you’re doomed from the start. You screwed up by missing the signs that you were pushing too hard. I don’t know a single leader who hasn’t misjudged their team at some point. I’ve done it. Have I ever told you about Torfan?”

“No,” he said. “You don’t talk about Torfan.”

Shepard closed her eyes and leaned back onto the pillow. She hated talking about this but, if it could help him, she would do it. She gently stroked the top of his fringe as she spoke. “You remember Major Kyle. He went nuts and started that biotic commune we went to. He was my commanding officer when we were sent to Torfan in retaliation for the Blitz. My first boyfriend was killed on Elysium. They didn’t know that when they assigned me to the mission. We’d kept our relationship quiet because of the fraternization regs. He died trying to help the colonists stand against the batarians.

“When we arrived on Torfan, the batarians had already torn through several platoons. They were dug in deep in these underground mines and it worked about like your bridge did, just funneled us into scope. They had been sending small strike teams in to secure the mines and the batarians slaughtered them all. Major Kyle wanted to send me in with another small team but I refused. Then the batarians started sending out our dead in mining cars. He lost it and I took over.

“I sent back several cars still filled with dead soldiers and then I started replacing some of the dead with my men. Their job was to shock the enemy, get them confused. It worked. I led a team in but there were a lot more than intel had suggested and they knew the layout. It was a bloodbath. I should have pulled my men out but I could see Michael and all of those dead colonists on Elysium and Mindoir and the people they’d enslaved. We had to stop them. So we stayed. By the time we’d secured the facility, three quarters of my team were dead. I lost thirty men because I got emotional and lost sight of the mission parameters.”

“How did you come back from it?” he asked.

“I didn’t,” she said. “Not completely. A part of me will always be on that moon, down in those mines. I lost a piece of myself that day. The things I’ve done since have been a way of atoning for that. I will always put my team before myself. And...it does define me because that wasn’t something that happened to me. I made a choice. I knew our losses would be staggering and I did it anyway. I’m the Butcher. I’m a lot of other things as well, though. A part of you will always be on Omega just like a part of me will always be on Torfan. A part of you will always be on _Purgatory_ like a part of me will always be on Mindoir. You learn to live without those parts, to let them go.”

“Will you really help me find Sidonis?” he asked.

“I will,” she promised. “And I’ll help you kill him if that’s what you want to do. Kuril is dead. Tarak is dead. Jaroth is dead. Garm is dead. Sidonis is the only one left. We'll find him and correct that.”

He cocked his head and said, “How do you know about Tarak, Jaroth, and Garm?”

“I killed them,” she said. “I hacked Jaroth’s mechs and we set them loose among what little was left of Eclipse. I cut out Tarak's eyes for what he did. And I cut off Garm’s dick and quad, tied it around my neck like a trophy, painted your colony marks on my face in his blood, cut off his head plate, and had him hanged in the entry of his base after I walked out of there like that. Then I threw his genitals in a fire and left him to rot in front of all of his followers.”

“Spirits, Shepard,” he said. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Omega has its one rule. I have my own. Don’t fuck with my family,” she said vehemently. 

Garrus sat up and carefully brought his good hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Am I your family, Shepard?”

“You are,” she said and drew his forehead to hers. She released his head before they touched, allowing him room to avoid the contact if he wished. The sigh that left him when his forehead met hers was explosive and his entire body shuddered. 


	6. Chapter 6

Garrus’ physical recovery was slow, his mental and emotional recovery even more so. Shepard gave the order that no one was to approach him without her present as he grew agitated when strangers were around. Mordin, Joker, and the doctor were the only ones allowed free access to him as it turned out that Mordin had treated some of his squad when they’d been injured during a raid on the Blood Pack and Garrus trusted him. He remained sequestered in the med bay for two weeks after finally agreeing to treatment and Shepard spent all of her free time there after Mordin mentioned that his vitals stabilized when she was present even though he was sedated for much of that time in order to speed his healing. 

Shepard returned from the Collector ship heartsick and weary with indignation. She expected Chambers to be waiting for her with some pithy platitudebut she wasn’t at her post. Joker’s voice was strained when he said, “Commander, there was, uh, a situation in the med bay.”

Shepard didn’t wait for details. She ignored the pain in her side from a particle beam and the ache in her body from a scion’s shockwave and Harbinger’s warps as she ran for the elevator and then for the med bay. She found Dr. Chakwas tutting disapprovingly over Chambers who was cupping a hand to her face. When she turned to look as the door swished closed, Shepard saw three furrows along the side of her cheek and wide, dilated pupils that spoke of fear and shock. Dr. Chakwas was tight-lipped with fury. Garrus was nowhere to be seen.

“What happened?” she demanded.

Dr. Chakwas answered in a tight voice, “Yeoman Chambers decided that Garrus just needed ‘to be held’ and that she was the one to do it.”

“I told you to stay away, didn’t I?” Shepard said coldly. “You countermanded my order and now gods only know how far back you’ve set him. You are restricted to your quarters until we dock at the Citadel and then you are welcome to find your own transportation wherever you would like to go. You’re off my crew, Chambers. I think I can handle checking my own messages and you’ve proven your incompetence as a counselor for the crew. Dr. Chakwas can take over those duties. Now, where is Garrus?”

“I sent him up to your cabin, Commander,” the doctor answered. “His injuries are healed enough for him to be released from the med bay and I could guarantee his privacy there. I thought he would feel more comfortable in an environment that holds only reminders of you. EDI is monitoring his status for me.”

Shepard nodded. “Treat her and get her to the crew quarters. No one is to interact with her for the duration of the trip. We reach the Citadel in forty-eight hours.”

“Understood, Commander,” the doctor said before turning her attention back to the yeoman.

Shepard turned on her heel and stalked back to the elevator. The crew cleared out of her way after a single look at her stormy face. “Of all the stupid, ignorant, idiotic, damn fool things to do,” she muttered. “EDI, pass on to the Illusive Man that Yeoman Chambers is more suited to a daycare than a warship. If that’s the best he can do, I’ll pick the rest of my crew myself, thank you. And make an announcement that the next person who defies my orders and approaches Officer Vakarian will be relieved of duty via the airlock.”

“Yes, Commander,” EDI said. It seemed that she’d cowed even the AI with her dark mood. Her last crew had followed her out of loyalty and respect but this wasn’t her last crew. If she had to get them to follow her into hell because they were more afraid of her than the Collectors, then so be it. Garrus would be protected.

She found him curled in a dark corner of her cabin. She wouldn’t have seen him if she hadn’t heard his anxious keening. He froze when he saw her and words began spilling out of him too fast for her translator to pick up. His language had a musical quality even behind the fear that coated it like acid but the time for admiring it would come later. Now she had to calm him. Again. She held up a hand and told him to slow down. He took a deep breath and scrambled over to her. She started in surprise when he pressed his face against her abdomen and her arms went around his neck almost by reflex, though she was careful to avoid his healing fringe.

His voice was a tense murmur and she bent her head to catch his words. “Not Omega. Don’t send me back. Please don’t send me back there. I’ll go anywhere, even Palaven if I have to. Just not Omega and not _Purgatory_. Shepard.” Her name was almost a wail.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she said. “Easy, Garrus. Why would I send you away?”

“I hurt her,” he said.

“She was the stupid one who disobeyed a direct order to stay away from you,” Shepard said. “She had no right to touch you. It’s okay, honey. Calm down. Please calm down.”

His arms banded around her waist and she winced as he pressed into the burn over her ribs but she didn’t protest. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m useless, Shepard. I don’t know why you keep me around. I’m worthless to you.”

She stroked a hand down the back of his neck and said, “No, sweetheart. You aren’t worthless. You aren’t useless. You’re a little bit broken right now but that’s okay. We’ll fix it.” She hoped she was telling the truth. Shepard knew how to tear things apart, how to kill and destroy, how to demolish. She didn’t know how to put things back together. For him, though, she would try and gods knew that when something seemed impossible that was when Shepard truly shined. 

“Shepard,” he said quietly, “can I stay here?”

“Of course,” she said. “I already told you that.”

“No,” he said. “I meant here in your cabin. I don’t—I can’t—I feel safer here when you aren’t on board. I can…I can smell you here and remember that you’re alive.”

“Yeah, honey,” she said softly. “You can stay with me.”

\---

Garrus was jealous of Thane. The assassin admittedly fascinated her and she spent considerably more time with him than with anyone other than Garrus but he was simply a place where she could go when she needed to let down her guard. Even she still had to be careful with her favorite turian. Moving too quickly, speaking too sharply, even walking too close to him could all trigger a reaction that was at times heartbreaking and at others violent. He kept his talons clipped down but she had begun to look a bit like a tiger with all of the bruises she carried from the swipes he lashed out at her. She refused to dodge them and insisted on remaining close to him even when he was lost in mindless rage. It was partly that she didn’t want him to think that she was afraid of him and partly that she felt that he needed to see that she accepted him even at his worst. The latter was a gift that he had always given freely to her.

Caring for him was tiring, though, and there were times when she needed to be somewhere that she didn’t have to carefully monitor her own movements or constantly gauge her companion’s moods. Thane seemed to recognize when she needed to talk and when she needed to be distracted and when she simply needed to be alone. Those latter times, he would simply glance up at her and nod before returning to his meditations and she would stand silently at the window gazing out at the glowing drive core, letting the steady thrum of the ship soothe her ragged nerves.

She didn’t notice the tension between the turian and the drell at first because Thane so rarely left his room and Garrus was always on edge when he wasn’t in her cabin. Gradually, however, she began to pick up on the way his subvocals would start rumbling when Thane placed a hand casually on her shoulder or asked her for a moment in his quarters. Garrus’ unease with the rest of the crew was more personal when directed at Thane. Her first thought was that he simply distrusted the assassin and was being protective of her but he didn’t give the same reaction to Zaeed and he had far more reason to distrust the former head of the Blue Suns than he did the resident drell. 

It wasn’t until she’d given the crew shore leave on the Citadel and passed by a turian and asari couple that she figured it out. Another turian was blatantly flirting with the asari in C-Sec HQ and her mate walked up and began making the same sound that Garrus did around Thane as he put his arm possessively around the azure female. The other turian immediately backed down. Shepard turned to Sergeant Haron as he ran the DNA scan and asked, “What was he saying?”

The turian sergeant looked surprised and opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying, “I didn’t know humans could hear that, ma’am. He, uh, basically he was telling the other guy to back off.”

“So that’s, what, a possessive noise?” she asked.

Haron nodded. “More territorial than possessive but you’ve got the basic idea.”

“Thanks,” she said. 

The next time that the three of them were in a room together and Garrus began to rumble, she turned to him and said, “Stop.”

He looked at her with the same expression of surprise that Haron had worn and Thane cocked his head and furrowed his brows slightly in the look he adopted when he was curious about something. Garrus said, “Stop what, exactly?”

“That territorial sound you’re making,” she said. “Thane is not a threat to you. He is my friend and I will interact with my friends in whatever way I choose. Understood?”

Garrus nodded. “Sorry, Shepard,” he said meekly. “I can’t exactly control it. I didn’t realize you could hear it.”

Thane said, “I apologize as well. I was not aware of the meaning of that particular vocalization and did not intend to cause you distress, Officer. I assure you, I am not attempting to take your mate from you.”

Garrus sputtered. “I’m not—she’s not—we aren’t mates. I don’t know why I keep doing that.”

“We’ve been through a lot together, Garrus,” Shepard said gently. “It’s not all that surprising that a part of you would feel like I belong to you. I have to admit I’m pretty territorial over you myself. I just don’t want you and Thane at odds. I’d like the two of you to be my ground team. Thane’s a pretty remarkable sniper himself and even better at stealth than I am. You’re both proficient with a variety of other weapons. Garrus, you’re the best hacker I’ve seen short of Tali and between our tech and Thane’s biotics, we’d make a pretty powerful team. It won’t work if you two can’t work together, though.”

Garrus blinked at her. “You want me back in the field with you?”

“Of course,” she said. “It doesn’t feel right without you on my six. I feel like I’ve got a gap in my armor. Thane’s good but he doesn’t have the same instinctive understanding of where I’m going and what I’m about to do next that you do and the others aren’t as skilled. None of them have worked as part of a team but Miranda and Jacob and I’m the odd man out there because they’ve worked together for almost as long as you and I have. My skills are better now than they’ve ever been and I’m harder to injure and yet I’ve come back from every mission we’ve run so far with at least one bullet in me. That didn’t happen when you were there. So, yeah, I want you at my back. You’re also capable of leading if something happens to me. No one will follow Miranda or Zaeed and none of the others have that experience, either. The only problem is that I can’t have you jumping at shadows out there.”

“Just say the word,” Garrus said, “and I’m right behind you, Shepard.”

She nodded once. “Good. Because we’re headed to Haestrom to get Tali and there’s no one I’d rather have facing geth with me than you.”

He gave her a ghost of a smile but it was more than she’d seen from him since she found him and her heart thrilled to it. “Just like old times,” he said.

“Just like old times,” she agreed and hoped that she was right in thinking that getting him back out in the field would help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently came across an LJ post for the same prompt which had a similar situation between Garrus and Chambers. First, apparently there's someone out there who thinks along similar lines as I'd already written this section long before I read that story. Second, there was a lot of backlash over the portrayal of Kelly. I don't know about the author of the other story but I based my own scene off of the conversation with Kelly where she says she just wants to hold Garrus and tell him that everything is going to be okay. I've always felt that Kelly was a bit inappropriate in her attitude toward some of the crew, especially considering that she's supposed to be a psychologist. Third, I really just don't like Kelly and wished I could kick her off the ship in the second game. Your opinion may differ.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haestrom (not a runthrough of the mission)

Haestrom was hot. Even Garrus thought it was too hot. Shepard cursed as her shields faltered again and tried to blink away the sweat that was dripping into and burning her eyes. Garrus shouted out a warning and had deployed an overload on the approaching drones before she was able to do more than turn her head. She grinned at him and his undamaged mandible flared in a lopsided smile. She had been worried about bringing him along on this mission but it seemed to be good for him. She was getting to see flashes of the old Garrus and he had proven that he still knew her on that deep, instinctive level that turned a firefight into a dance. 

Thane melded into their group like water through the chinks and she was stunned to realize that they made an even more efficient trio than herself, Garrus, and either Liara or Tali. She could still use Tali’s expertise with the geth but the drell held his own well enough that she would not have guessed it was his first time facing the somewhat-sentient machines. She wondered how well the three of them would do against an enemy that was familiar to all of them and almost wished for a band of pirates to fight. 

When they found a pair of geth firing at something they couldn’t see, she and Garrus popped out of cover without speaking and took the machines down in what sounded like a single shot. Thane’s brows rose and Garrus said happily, “Like taking candy from a fledgling.”

“Baby,” she corrected.

He snorted. “Who gives candy to babies anyway?”

“Do you really call your kids fledglings?” she asked. “Gods, you are like birds.”

“At least we don’t have fur like a pyjak,” he countered.

“It’s not fur,” she protested. “And come on, I know you can come up with something more original than pyjak. You’re slipping, Vakarian.”

“Are the two of you always so lighthearted in the midst of battle?” Thane asked.

“Yup,” she answered.

“Always,” Garrus said.

“You should have heard us with the rachni,” she added. “I almost shot him once because he decided it would be funny to walk up behind me and hiss.”

“It’s a defense mechanism,” Garrus said, “against all of Shepard’s crazy ideas.”

“I’m not crazy,” she insisted.

Garrus looked at Thane and said flatly, “She drove a Mako through a mass relay.”

“A mini one!” she exclaimed.

“A. Mass. Relay,” Garrus enunciated. “And the damn thing still wasn’t totaled.”

“Garrus tried to run over a geth armature with it,” she said.

“It worked with the rocket troopers when you did it,” Garrus said defensively. “At least I didn’t run down a thresher maw with it.”

“It worked,” she said.

“Only because I shot a rocket in its mouth at the last minute,” Garrus countered. “I think that if the Mako hadn’t been upside down you’d have tried to send it at Sovereign.”

“Probably would have held up against it better than the _Destiny Ascension_ was,” she muttered.

“Ain’t that the damn truth,” Garrus said and she shook her head.

“Banter,” Thane said, “is yet another thing to which I must become accustomed. You certainly are broadening my horizons, Shepard.”

“She has a way of doing that,” Garrus agreed.

His good mood lasted until they found Tali. The quarian tried to hug him and he flinched away. Even through her suit, Shepard could see that the rejection stung. Tali’s glowing eyes drifted over Garrus from behind her mask and his good mandible clamped tightly over his teeth. He turned abruptly and left the room. Tali shot Shepard a look that was rife with curiosity and she had a moment to marvel that she could so easily read someone whose face she’d never seen before Tali asked, “What was that about?”

Shepard sighed, “It’s a long story. Don’t take it personally. He doesn’t like to be touched.”

“He didn’t have a problem touching you,” Tali pointed out, referencing the way that Garrus’ hand had ghosted over her elbow before he withdrew.

“He’s been through some shit,” Shepard said. “We’ve been working through it together. Like I said, don’t take it personally. He’ll warm back up if you’re patient. Just don’t make any sudden moves. Let him come to you.”

Tali glanced at the doorway and said in a low voice, “What the hell happened to him, Shepard?”

“It’s not my story to tell, Tali,” she said. “The short of it is that he was on Omega while I was dead. He formed a team and they were betrayed and slaughtered. He and the traitor were the only survivors. I was too late, Tali. I wasted time that I could have been using to get to him trying to put the pieces of my old life back together when the whole time one of the biggest pieces needed me and I wasn’t there. He was captured. It took weeks to find out, locate him, and get him back. By the time I did, he was…well, worse than he is now. He’s come a long way but he still has a long way to go.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Shepard,” Garrus called out from the doorway. Damn turian hearing. She’d forgotten how sharp it was.

“You said it yourself, Garrus,” she said with a sigh. “I was too late. Come on. Let’s go home.”

___

“I had no idea you blamed yourself,” Garrus said in her cabin later that night. “I should have realized, though. You take more responsibility for others than anyone I know.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think you’ve started giving me a run for my money.”

“They were my responsibility. Not yours,” he said as she peeled the bandage away from his face. His eyes slid away from hers and his hands clenched as they did every time she looked at his wounds. He’d gained his weight and muscle tone back and his bones had healed. His fringe bore a slight crook that was only noticeable if you knew what you were looking at and his spur had been saved, though it was still too short. His plates had begun to regain their shine though they looked more weathered than before. It gave him an air of maturity that she would have liked had she not known that it came from pain. His face, though, would be forever drastically changed. 

Garrus had been considered handsome by turian standards and, she thought, truly by anyone’s standards. Had he been granted Nihlus’ deep red coloring, he’d have had to pull out the stick Joker used to insist was in his ass and beat women of almost any species off of him. Shepard liked his silver plates, though, and the way his crystal blue eyes glittered from them like a clear spot of sky on a cloudy day. Silver and blue were definitely his colors. 

She’d never been attracted to turians and honestly hadn’t paid them much attention before meeting Nihlus and then Garrus. Nihlus had been objectively handsome but there had been something about Garrus that had drawn her from the first. It was in the passion with which he argued his case before Executor Pallin, the boldness with which he’d rescued Dr. Michel, the eagerness with which he’d insisted on coming with her on her mission. She’d found a kindred spirit in him and he had reminded her of herself a few years before. She knew that he was younger than she and had taken on a mentoring role for him in the same way that Anderson had done for her for years. That role had gradually shifted into friendship and from there into a bond that she couldn’t find the words to describe. 

No one had ever understood her the way that Garrus did. He could tell at a glance what she was feeling and thinking and could generally deduce the cause of it and her course of action without her having to say a word. He knew when to push and when to back off, when to speak and when to remain silent, when to joke and when to be serious. She’d never had to guide him in the way she had the others. She’d directed him and advised him but she’d never had to explain herself to him or him to her once they’d gotten to know each other. Garrus had been a constant presence at her back and at her side. He’d unfailingly supported her even when he didn’t agree with her course of action and only voiced that disagreement when she was open to it or they were alone. He could be swayed by reason but not from his morals and their values had matched up surprisingly well for two people from such disparate cultures which had been at war within their lifetimes.

She knew that Garrus had sought companionship while on the _Normandy_ , though it was rare because he seemed to search for it solely within his own species. That alone had held her back from expressing her interest in him. She was bold but she couldn’t bear the thought of taking their easy relationship and twisting it to something awkward and unwieldy simply because her hormones went haywire every time he looked at or touched her. He’d never shown any signs that he felt anything for her beyond a fraternal friendship and so she’d resigned herself to that. 

She’d almost given in to the temptation to use Kaidan for release prior to Ilos but had sent him away when she hadn’t been able to think of anything but the turian in the shuttle bay. She’d spent the night lying under the Mako and passing tools to him while he worked and had counted herself fortunate for the quiet time together. She’d rather pass him tools in companionable silence than pass any number of hours attempting to seek solace in the arms of another. She had it bad and he had no clue.

She hated that he felt self-conscious about his appearance now. She wondered what a turian female would think of him. From the disparaging comments he occasionally made, she thought that they likely had little appreciation for battle scars. She herself couldn’t understand that but there were a lot of things about other cultures that she didn’t understand and yet chose to accept. A part of her wanted to find out whether his feelings had changed and if his shift to a more casual physical relationship was due to attraction on his part but another part of her loathed the idea that he might accept her only out of fear that he couldn’t find someone closer to home. She wasn’t the type of woman to be satisfied with being anyone’s second choice. The very idea rankled. It didn’t stop her from hoping, however, when she noticed that he was trying to hide his face from her as she cleaned the wound. “You know I can’t work on this if I can’t see it, right?” she asked lightly.

“It’s ugly,” he said baldly with an attempt at a self-deprecating laugh. “I hope my parents are all right with the idea of a krogan daughter-in-law. They’re the only ones who like scars enough to look past all this.”

She almost responded the way she would have had their relationship still been that of easy teasing, though she wouldn’t have meant it. _Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap a little face paint on it and no one will notice the difference._ The problem, though, was that he wasn’t ugly, then or now, and while she could have gotten away with saying so jokingly before everything he’d been through, she knew she was dancing around landmines now. Instead, she leaned forward and lightly pressed her lips to the least injured part of his mangled mandible and hoped that the contact didn’t hurt. 

He jolted and looked at her with open, stunned curiosity. “Shepard?” he asked nervously.

“I think you’re beautiful, Garrus,” she said with a kind of bare honesty that only he could bring out of her. 

He laughed nervously and shifted on the couch. “Even you aren’t twisted enough to find these scars attractive.”

The statement hurt. It hurt both because she hated hearing him so unsure of himself and also because it spoke of the depth of his own vanity, a vanity that meant that he could think of her own jagged marks as no less than ugly. It was rare that Shepard was self-conscious. She was not vain and she hadn’t minded the glowing marks on her face before she realized what they meant to Garrus. She’d never concerned herself with whether others found her attractive or not. That was the least of her worries as she was trying to climb the ranks though the Alliance and then defend her actions on Torfan and then chase down a rogue Spectre and his Reaper overlord. Then, however, she’d had only the one long-faded scar that bisected her face, a memento of the batarians on Mindoir. He’d never seemed to notice that one but there was no way he could overlook the cybernetic glow that seamed her patchwork face and body. 

She tried to shrug casually and said, “Well, maybe I’m a bit partial to scars given the number I have myself.”

Garrus groaned and closed his eyes. “I’m an idiot,” he said. “I didn’t—Shepard, you aren’t—I’ve never thought you were ugly.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said brusquely, returning her attention to the deep gouges in his face. The bandage covered the worst of the injury but left the damage to most of his mandible, his lips, the side of his neck, and his collar open. They’d scabbed over and begun to scar and the bluer tissue there looked less angry than she thought it would if it were red simply because she had been conditioned to see red tissue as injured while blue didn’t strike the same visceral chord. 

“It does,” he insisted. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Shepard, I don’t know what humans find attractive in your species but I don’t think you’re ugly at all. I—damn, please stop me if any of this is offensive or hurtful, but I think you’re spectacular. Your hair is like silk. It’s soft and smooth and when it catches the light you can see that it isn’t just one solid color but a hundred different shades. The angles of your face are almost perfectly symmetrical and symmetry is a big part of attractiveness in turians. We like lines and angles and you’re full of those. Your collarbone is flat but, for your shape, it’s pronounced and so very delicate. Your shoulders are strong and your legs go on forever. Your waist isn’t as slim as a turian’s but it’s supportive and the way your hips flare out sharply are very appealing.

“I'm rambling. Your scars, well, your scars tell a story of success. You got those doing the impossible. You came back from the dead. Mine, on the other hand, are from failure. That’s why I hate them. Sure, part of it is vanity but a much bigger part of it is that every time I pass a mirror, I’m reminded that I failed to protect my squad. I didn’t protect you and I didn’t protect them and everyone I’ve ever truly lo—cared about has died on my watch. I should have been here, Shepard. I shouldn’t have run off to be a Spectre when I had the opportunity to learn from the one who’d saved the galaxy. I should have known better than to trust Sidonis. I should have seen the cracks. You’d have known when to stop pushing. You’d have seen that he was going to break. You never would have trusted him in the first place.”

“Oh, Garrus,” she sighed. “You can’t know that.”

“I do,” he said bitterly. “I had your voice in my ear the whole time warning me that he was the weak link and to keep an eye on him. You warned me not to trust him just because he was another turian and I didn’t listen. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that I don’t think you’re ugly.”

“Damned by faint praise,” she said in a teasing tone she didn’t feel as she affixed the new bandage to his face. She hated the self-loathing in his voice.

“It’s not like you to search for compliments, Commander,” he said.

“I’m not,” she denied as she leaned back to view her handiwork. She thought the bandage looked worse than his injuries but she wouldn’t tell him that. There was no need to make him feel even more self-conscious. “As I recall,” she mused, “I was complimenting you.”

He snorted and said, “Thane and I both have faces that will stop people in their tracks but they don’t stop for the same reason. He’s the pretty one.” 

“I mean it, Garrus,” she said, gently tracing the healing scars. “Thane’s pretty, but you…you’re something special. Your face…even scarred and battered is…precious to me. I look at you and I know I’m not alone. I know that everything will be okay because we’re in it together. You’ve got my back.”

“Always,” he said softly. “Shepard, I…” he began.

“Commander,” EDI said and Garrus leapt out of the bed. He winced but remained in his defensive crouch, looking around the cabin until he realized it was simply the ship's AI. “I apologize for causing you distress, Officer Vakarian,” EDI said. “I wished to notify the commander that Dr. Chakwas is requesting entry.”

Garrus relaxed slowly but she could see the fight or flight response still active in him and motioned for him to come back to her. He did and she said, “Let her in.”

The door opened and the doctor appeared. “I brought Tali and food if that’s all right,” she said.

Shepard looked at Garrus and he nodded hesitantly but shrank back as the women came in. She reached for him and he took her hand and squeezed it tightly so she slid over to sit beside him and he leaned into her. She was still amazed that he let her touch him at all but even more so that he seemed to crave it. He’d been without a kind touch for so long that he seemed almost starved for affectionate contact and she was so damn glad just to have him here that she was happy to give it.

“Hey, Garrus,” Tali said brightly. “I was wondering if you guys would mind if I eat dinner with you. I bet it’s been lonely being the only dextro on board.”

Garrus looked to Shepard and she could almost feel the pain radiate from Tali. She had suspected that the little quarian had felt something for Garrus for a long time and, either way, she knew that it had to hurt that he hadn’t immediately accepted her company. She shot Tali an apologetic look and said, “Come on in. We can eat at the table.”

Tali recovered quickly and began clearing the datapads off of the coffee table in front of the couch. She moved them to the desk with the familiarity of someone who felt at home in Shepard’s quarters, which she should. Shepard had missed her friend and she needed that connection to her old life, that assurance that she was still her, and that her memories were intact. Shepard liked the rest of her crew and cared about them but Tali was the little sister she’d never had.

While Tali cleared the table, Karin scanned Garrus and gave him a small dose of pain killers. “How’s he doing, Doc?” Shepard asked.

“Honestly, he’s much better than I would have expected at this point,” she answered. “Physically, most of his remaining injuries should be fully healed in a few days. The damage to his face will take a few months but he isn’t rejecting the implants so far, which is good. I do wish he would talk to either Mordin or me.”

“How much experience and training do you have with psychological issues in other species?” Shepard asked. 

“Not as much as I’d like,” Karin answered, “but more than anyone else aboard. I might hesitate to treat him but I believe I am sufficiently skilled to evaluate and present a recommendation.”

“Garrus?” Shepard said. “It’s up to you.”

He looked uncertain and said, “I don’t know, Shepard. I don’t really want to talk to anyone else about…all of that.”

“You don’t have to,” she said. “Talk about your current state or things you feel like you can’t tell me or whatever you feel like talking about. Or don’t talk to her at all. But you need to talk to someone. My psych training is limited and I’m too close to the situation to be objective. You can tell me anything but that doesn’t mean I will always be able to help.”

“If you trust her…” he said.

“I do,” she told him. "So did you, once."

“Then she can do an evaluation,” he said.

“You heard him,” Shepard said. “But, first, we eat.”

“I made the food,” Tali said. “I’m not sure your mess sergeant knows how to cook dextro. It’s bland but it won’t poison you.”

“Thanks, Tali,” he said without looking at her.

Shepard tilted his head up and said, “Hey, try that again but look at her this time.”

“I can’t,” he said in a low voice. “It’s hard enough with you. She reminds me of Weaver. Or, rather, Weaver always reminded me of her.”

“It’s all right,” Tali said. “I understand. I can go if you want.”

“No,” Garrus said quickly. “That’s not—it’s just—I have to face it. I just…give me some time.”

“Take all the time you need, Garrus,” Tali said. “We’re friends. I’m here for you.”

They ate in somewhat awkward silence. Then, Shepard had the idea to bring Tali and Garrus up to speed on the current mission. That was something that was normal enough for them that it seemed to help him relax. They’d spent hours on the old _Normandy_ going over mission reports and debriefs. He listened in a way that both made her feel like a bit of the old Garrus was still there and also accentuated how much he’d changed during the two years while she was dead. His comments were few but they were insightful and he anticipated events that had happened on several missions. She could see him evaluating her tactical decisions and comparing them to the way that he would have done it. When he got that look again as she described Horizon, she asked, “How would you have approached that situation, Garrus?”

He hesitated and then said, “It sounds like this Harbinger is able to jump from drone to drone. I would take out the drones first and then focus on it directly. Give it less opportunities to throw harder opponents at you.”

She nodded and said, “Yeah, we figured that out eventually. It was something you would have seen right away, though.”

When they described the Collector ship, he not only saw the trap but identified the Illusive Man as the one who’d sent them into it. “Turian transmissions have a secondary encryption built in. It isn’t something that can be counterfeited. If he decrypted the message, then he knew when he sent you in that the distress signal was fake.”

“EDI put that together,” she said.

“And you still trust him?” Tali asked. “Cerberus, Shepard. You remember all those sick experiments they were doing back in the day.”

“I know,” she said. “I fully expect him to betray us and that’s why all of the Cerberus crew but Miranda get qualified trust. I think they’re loyal to me but there’s no way to know for sure.”

“Why do you trust Miranda?” he asked.

“I helped her save her sister,” she said. “Her loyalty is still somewhat divided but she’s stopped sending anything but basic status reports to the Illusive Man and she took down all of the bugs she’d planted across the ship.”

“What about the AI?” he asked.

“I trust EDI,” she said. “Like I said, she’s the one who figured out that he knew and she told us. She didn’t have to do that.”

“I do not send private information to the Illusive Man,” EDI said. “The safety and security of the crew is one of my top priorities. If there is something that will potentially negatively affect the mission, I discuss it with the commander first. If she is unable to resolve it, then I take it to the attention of the Illusive Man. That has not been required so far.”

“Next you’re going to tell me you’ve made friends with a geth,” he quipped.

“No geth yet,” she said with a smile.

“Keelah,” Tali said with a shudder. “You’d better not.”

The doctor and Tali stayed until Garrus began to nod off and then took their leave. Shepard settled him in the bed and made sure he was comfortable. “I need to do my rounds,” she said. “I need to make sure everyone is still doing well and check in on a few things. I’ll be back.”

“I remember,” he said sleepily. “I’m okay.”

“EDI, you know the drill. Alert me if he has any problems and make sure that no one comes in this room without my express consent,” she ordered.

“Understood, Commander.”


	8. Chapter 8

He found her as she was leaving the Life Support room where Thane had just dropped a bombshell on her about his family. There was a gleam in his eyes that she’d only seen once before, when she’d agreed to help him find and stop Dr. Saleon. She said instantly, “You found him.”

“Not him,” Garrus said, “but someone who can lead me to him. Name’s Fade. He’s on the Citadel.”

“You’re in luck,” she said. “I just told Joker to set a course there. Thane needs my help with something, too. We can kill two birds with one stone.”

“I don’t think a rock is going to be an efficient way to take out Sidonis,” he said doubtfully. “It wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

“Human idiom,” she explained. “We can do two things at once.”

“Oh,” he said, shifting uncomfortably as one of the crew walked out of the shared quarters and brushed past him. He didn’t jump. It was progress, especially when the crewman apologized and he nodded and said, “No harm done.” 

Shepard couldn’t stop her smile when he told her he’d spent the day calibrating the main gun and needed to get back to it. Slowly, piece by piece, her Garrus was coming back. The shadows remained behind his eyes and she knew from experience that they would never completely leave him. He still had a tendency to lash out if anyone else walked up behind him, but he knew her tread and didn’t react when she did it. She’d even found him talking to Tali in the mess hall the day before and Joker had told her that he’d come up on the bridge to speak with him once.

He still spent his nights in her cabin. His nightmares were becoming less frequent. It was almost habit now to comfort him. When he began to thrash that night, she didn't hesitate to leave her spot on the surprisingly comfortable couch and go over to him. She avoided his slashing talons as she leaned over to stroke a hand along the top of his fringe. She spoke soothingly to him. His eyes opened with predatory quickness and locked onto her with his teeth bared. He relaxed just as quickly as he had tensed. She wasn’t prepared when his arms wrapped around her and he pulled her down onto the bed. She landed across him with a grunt and went boneless as he rolled with her. 

She half expected a bite when she felt his face against her neck, but it didn’t come. He tucked her into his side and breathed her in as his hands buried themselves in her hair. She could feel fine tremors running through him and resumed her calming touches as his hot, shaking breath bathed her neck and shoulder. He held her like she was the last solid point in a crumbling world and she returned his embrace like she could hold him together with nothing more than her will and her arms. When he finally relaxed, she made no effort to extract herself but simply continued to hold him through the night. For the first time in longer than she could remember, both of them slept soundly.

Shepard woke to Garrus’ talons running through her hair and his face nuzzling her neck. “Morning,” she mumbled sleepily.

He made a humming sound and said, “You’re so soft. How do you survive the things you do?”

“I’m resilient,” she said on a yawn as she stretched languorously. It was amazing to her just how comfortable waking up next to a hard, pointy turian could be. He was all rough plates and sharp edges and pointy teeth, but he was so warm. After Alchera, she’d felt like she would never be warm again. She took a chance and settled closer into him. He made that humming vibration that sounded like contentment again and didn’t protest when she buried her face into the crook of his neck. She breathed in the hot metal and rainforest scent of him. “You smell good,” she told him as she felt his heat seep into her to warm places that she’d begun to think would never fully thaw.

He chuckled softly and said, “Never would have pictured the great Commander Shepard as a cuddler.”

“Even Reaper-killers have needs, Vakarian,” she said. 

“You’re just as starved for it as I am,” he said in a tone of wonder.

“Starved for what?” she asked, wondering if he’d protest if she put her feet against his legs. She’d always had cold feet and every guy she’d slept with before had complained. She knew turians didn’t like the cold. He’d made that very clear on Noveria but he didn’t say anything when the side of her foot brushed his leg so she curled her toes around him and sighed deeply. 

“Touch,” he said. “Spirits, you’re flexible.”

“If you say I have pyjak feet…” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a smile in his voice that told her he’d been thinking exactly that. 

“Starved for touch, huh?” she mused. “Maybe you’re right.” She uncurled the hands she’d balled into fists against his carapace and allowed them to rest against his chest. He slept in his underarmor and she could feel his plates through the fabric. She hadn’t paid much attention to his body when she’d cleaned him in her shower. Her focus had been on his injuries. Now, though, she realized that the plates weren’t bone as she’d thought. They had give and they shifted slightly as he breathed. It was thick skin rather than armored plating and made him more mobile than she’d expected. 

He grew very still as she explored his chest and shoulders, but his eyes drifted closed when she reached the softer suede of his neck. She could feel the rumble of his subharmonics vibrating through her, and this time, when he tilted his head back it was a gesture of trust rather than fearful submission. She had the urge to press her lips to the softer skin there but resisted it. He gasped when her fingers trailed up the ridge of spine plating and brushed against the underside of his fringe. She felt his grip on her tighten as his breathing grew shallow. When he looked down at her, his eyes were slightly unfocused. His hips shifted almost imperceptibly forward. Her eyes widened as she remembered that she’d stumbled upon a particularly sensitive area. She quickly moved her hands away and traced the pronounced line of his collar instead. He relaxed slightly but continued to hold her.

She found places on him that were softer than the rest. The insides of his elbows, beneath his arms, the gaps between his plates, and the sides of his waist were all unprotected, and judging by his reactions, more sensitive than the rest of his body. He groaned when she reached his waist and his back arched as much as his stiffer torso would allow. When she breathed an apology, he shook his head and said, “It’s all right. You don’t have to stop.” She took him at his word and skimmed her hands over the concave curve of his hip, drawing another groan from him. The backs of his thighs were unplated as well and the soft spot between his calf and spur made him purr like a big cat. 

She was fascinated by his body, his reactions, and his trust in her. When her hand slid back up his leg and behind his hips, he tensed slightly but dropped his forehead to hers and looked her in the eye as she very gently smoothed her palm over his ass. She knew she’d crossed a line between a casual exploration between friends and into some new, uncharted territory. As always, though, he was right there with her and trusted her to carry them safely into the unknown. She held his gaze as she felt her way along the thick muscle that took the place of the plates on his backside and then up to the ridge that continued down his neck to the base of his spine. He relaxed again when she moved on, but she realized only when she didn’t see its absence that there had been no true fear there in the first place. The realization was humbling, and this time, she couldn’t resist tilting her head forward to brush her lips against his shoulder. 

“My turn,” he said, gently pushing her back against the bed. She almost released a hum of frustration, but then his knuckles brushed lightly over her cheek and his forehead met hers again. His hand cupped her face and she nuzzled into it. “So soft,” he said with wonder in his subvocals. “I never imagined you could be so soft.”

He was careful even with his blunted talons when his fingers traced the blue line of the veins in her throat. He said something about humans’ blood looking right inside but wrong outside, but she was focused on trying to remember to breathe. Garrus was touching her. This was not for the purpose of patching her up after an injury or the easy companion of soldiers leaning on each other in the shuttle after a long mission or even for reassurance and grounding when his fear and guilt threatened to swallow him. This wasn’t Officer Vakarian or Archangel. This was Garrus and he was touching her like a man touches a woman. 

His hands lingered at her collarbone, the balls of her shoulder, the faint lines of her ribs just below her clavicle. When they skimmed almost absently over her breasts, it was her turn to gasp. His mandible flared slightly. He did it again, more purposefully this time, as he gauged her reaction. She was almost disappointed when he moved lower to circle her ribcage with his hands. “So small and yet so strong,” he murmured. “It feels like I could crush you without even trying.”

“You won’t break me, Garrus,” she assured him as his hands slid down. His head tilted to the side in a gesture that was almost birdlike as he evaluated the way a single one of his hands could span the breadth of her waist. His breath caught and he traced the line of exposed skin where her top had ridden up. When they brushed the waistband of her shorts, her hands clenched and she bit back a groan. He cupped the ball of her hip and squeezed gently. She bit down on her lip. Her hips had always been a sensitive spot. She swore she saw a grin flash over his face as he continued to watch her intently. 

Nerves flared as his hands traced down over her bare thighs. He’d seen her legs, of course, and her bare arms, had seen the lines and glowing seams that crisscrossed her skin, but this was different. He hadn’t been looking at her in the same way before. Now, it mattered to her what he thought. His talons gently traced the lines and his free hand came up to cup the side of her face. “You’re beautiful, Shepard,” he breathed softly, reassuring her. 

He copied her actions with him and followed the line of her leg down to her feet. His head cocked again as he evaluated them. He seemed strangely fascinated by her toes and the shape of her feet. “So that’s why humans are so slow,” he finally said. She laughed and tapped him on the shoulder. He did grin at her then before trailing his hand up the inside of her leg. Her laugh faded as he reached her inner thigh. His look took on a new intensity as he slowly drifted upward. He was waiting for her to tell him to stop, but she could no more order him to stop than she could tell herself to stop breathing. He reached the junction of her thighs and her hips jerked as she cried out his name. 

Garrus did hesitate then. “Shepard, are you sure?” he asked quietly.

"I should be asking you that," she said breathlessly.

"You aren't a man," he said. "Different situation entirely. Now, are you sure?"

“Garrus, please,” she gasped, writhing against his still hand. He growled softly and bent his head to nip at her shoulder, causing her to arch against him as heat flooded her body. She wanted him. She’d wanted him the first time that she had seen him on the Presidium arguing with the executor. She’d wanted him on the first _Normandy_ and in the Mako and the night before Ilos and the moment he’d seen her climbing the rubble that had been Sovereign after the Battle of the Citadel and the day she’d left him there to pursue his training as a Spectre. She'd wanted him when she'd spent shore leave at his apartment. He’d never given her any indication that he wanted her in the same way, though, so she’d held back. Now, however, she could read his desire in the tight lines of his body, the sharpness of his gaze, the heavy weight of him against her hip where he’d slipped out of his plates. She wanted him with a desperation and intensity that shook her.

“Commander,” EDI’s voice filtered into the room, “we have entered the Widow system and are beginning our approach to the Citadel.”

“Fuck!” she cursed sharply and quietly. “Thank you, EDI. I’ll be on the bridge in a few minutes.”

Garrus’ head had snapped up with the announcement, and for a moment, it seemed that she was forgotten. Then he looked down at her again and brought her back into focus. He nuzzled her forehead with his own and said, “Precipitation credit?”

It took her a moment, but she grinned and corrected, “Rain check. Right. Definitely.”


	9. Chapter 9

A large part of her wanted to kill the turian herself. She had to remind herself that it wasn’t her place. Yes, she was a Spectre and could get away with it. Yes, he’d almost cost her Garrus. Yes, it was his fault that Garrus had suffered. Yes, she’d been the one to perform the final rites over the corpses of the squad that had once been Archangel. However, this was not her vengeance to take. She’d gotten hers with Garm, Jaroth, Tarak, and Kuril. She had made those directly responsible for his pain suffer. This was Garrus’ retribution and she would not take it from him. 

When she didn’t move to the side as he asked, it was only because she knew that there were still unanswered questions that would haunt Garrus if he shot the bastard now. She also wanted Sidonis to know that death was coming for him, by whose hand, and why. He was Archangel’s final target. With him gone, she hoped the tormented vigilante could finally be laid to rest.

“He’s a damn coward!” Garrus exclaimed. She couldn’t agree more. She felt no pity for the man before her. Sidonis complained about the faces of the squad haunting him and food having no taste. All she could see through the red burn of fury was Garrus broken on a cell floor, Garrus cringing from her touch, Garrus so thin and emaciated that he could barely stand. Sidonis didn’t know what broken was. She only wished that she could show him. She stepped to the side and he fell before the crack of the rifle reached her ears. The neat hole that had appeared in his brow was much more kindness than he deserved.

She rejoined Garrus where she’d dropped him. No one spoke as she piloted the skycar back to the docks. A part of her wondered what Thane’s thoughts on the events were. The assassin had protested when she’d killed Talid. A part of her expected to see reproach on his features and was prepared to defend Garrus’ actions, but Thane simply nodded once and withdrew to the ship. There would be no judgment from that quarter, no risk to the solidity of the team. For that, she was grateful.

___

Killing Sidonis seemed to have a healing effect on Garrus. It didn’t wash away everything that had come before, but it did ease some of the tension in his shoulders and give him back some of his normal good humor. He came more fully out of his shell over the following days and even the crew began to notice the change in him. They stopped giving him such a wide berth and some of them even began to speak to him. They still left him alone when he was in the main battery or in her cabin, but when he started taking meals in the mess, a few brave souls chose to sit with him. She overheard them asking questions of their time aboard the first _Normandy_. 

Remembering the hunt for Saren and the fight against Sovereign helped to bring back even more of the old Garrus. When she heard him truly laugh for the first time as she was coming out of the observation lounge where she’d been speaking to Samara, she felt the smile light her face. He turned when he heard her approach and waved her over. She took the seat beside him and felt his hand ghost along her arm as she did. Her smile grew when she felt it come to rest on her thigh below the table. She gave it a quick squeeze with her own before jumping in and adding to the story he was telling about “Lord Darius” and his delusions. 

Garrus followed that one with the tale of her first interview by Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani. Shepard groaned and rolled her eyes at the reporter’s name. The woman had come after her again the last time they were on the Citadel. Shepard was beginning to wonder if the bitch knew how to duck. Tali joined them and began to reminisce about Virmire. They all grew quiet for a moment at the memory of their fallen comrade. Ash had given her life for the mission. Shepard still wondered if she’d made the right call. Remembering Ash led to memories of Pressly and the others who’d been lost when the first _Normandy_ had gone down. Garrus’ hand tightened on her thigh. She was afraid for a moment that he was remembering his squad, but when she looked at him, he was giving her a sympathetic look. 

“I’m all right,” she softly assured him. 

He nodded but changed the subject anyway. Tali looked stricken and mumbled an apology to Shepard, which she waved off. Grunt took a seat and began to eat something that moved. The Cerberus crew, to their credit, tried not to look revolted. Garrus, Tali, and Shepard had grown used to krogan cuisine with Wrex and barely noticed. When Samara stepped out, Shepard imagined for a moment that she was Liara. For an instant, it was like being back with her old crew again. Garrus’ thumb brushed her thigh, telling her that he was thinking the same thing. Then, Thane came out and sat beside her and Jack pushed herself up onto the counter with a leg dangling as she and Zaeed sniped at each other over something. 

Shepard looked around at her gathered crew and gave a short nod. It wasn’t the same. It wouldn’t ever be the same again. That didn’t mean that it wasn’t good. She had a new crew now, but the only thing keeping her from having the same closeness with them as she had the one that came before was herself. She had their loyalty. It was time to give them hers. Her fingers twined somewhat awkwardly with Garrus’ and she relaxed back in her seat. Wrex and Liara would always be part of her family, but that didn’t mean that it couldn’t expand to include more. Things had changed as they always would, but for the first time, she could see the change as something good.

___

That night, back in her cabin, Garrus seemed nervous. She thought at first that it was the signal of another bad night to come, but when he looked questioningly at her as he removed his armor, she realized that he was ready to cash in on their rain check. She hadn’t pushed it, hadn’t wanted to make him feel pressured. She’d wanted him to be the one to come to her. She realized now that he was just as nervous as she. 

Shepard took a deep breath and walked toward him. He held himself very still, but his hands came up to cup the balls of her shoulders as she peeled away the last layer of his underarmor. Standing, towering over her, her first thought was predator. A thrill of fear traveled up her spine as her eyes roved over his unclad body. His plates were the same silvery-gray of his face and the skin beneath had the olive hue of the skin over his neck. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said that turians were all hard lines and sharp angles. Every part of him looked as though it had been designed to kill with efficiency. He truly could destroy her without even trying. 

She’d seen Garrus fight. She knew how deadly he was. She’d seen him weak and broken. She had seen him happy and sad and pensive and gleeful. She knew his moods and his body language. She knew the graceful curve of his neck, the range of expressions in his face, the tones of his secondary vocalizations. She knew Garrus in a way that she thought few, if any, ever had. Now, however, she saw another side of him. She could easily picture him loping across the jagged mountain ranges of Palaven in search of prey, prey which he would take down with talons and teeth and the wiry strength of his body. He was primal beauty and feral grace. Never before had she been so aware of the differences between their species. Outside of his basic form, there was nothing the least bit humanoid about him.

“Shepard,” he said nervously, “are you sure you wouldn’t want something a little closer to home?”

She had no idea how they would make this work. Her first time with a human, she’d had at least a vague understanding of what went where and how it fit. She had none of that assurance now. That didn’t stop the desire raging through her at the sight of him. The air of danger and mystery simply served to heighten it. She wondered, not for the first time, what was wrong with her that this apex predator from another species could stir her in a way that no male from her own had ever quite managed. Kaidan was undeniably attractive and yet had left her cold. Meanwhile, the alien in front of her had every nerve in her body singing and he hadn’t even touched her.

She looked up at him and the answer was immediate. She didn’t desire turians in general. She desired him in specific. His body was beautiful to her because it was his. It was the body that had followed her into the unknown, had guarded her own, had lent its strength to her in countless situations and bizarre circumstances. This was the body that had stood beside her with the thorian, had faced down rachni and geth and Saren and Sovereign, had held her up when a krogan shotgun had ripped through shields and armor to shatter her leg, the shoulders that she’d slept on countless times while returning to the ship after a mission, the hands that had taught her turian signals because he didn’t have enough fingers to replicate human ones. This was Garrus, the man who’d never questioned, never faltered, never doubted her. She loved him. Therefore, he was the most heartstoppingly beautiful creature in all the galaxy.

She read the doubt and uncertainty in his eyes as she met his gaze. His self-consciousness was endearing in and of itself. She stepped forward to trail her hands along his foreign body. “No, Garrus,” she answered. “You are home.” 

His tension drained away as she sighed his name. His hands came up to cup her elbows. His forehead met hers and she stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his stiffer ones. He didn’t seem to know what to do but allowed his lips to part when she traced them with her tongue. His hands tightened on her elbows when she slipped past the row of needle-sharp teeth to explore his mouth and then his tongue swept into hers and she groaned.

Garrus was a quick study. It took only moments for him to match her rhythm and then to turn bold as he wrapped his tongue around hers. She gasped and her nails scraped against his hide as images flashed through her head of the other things he could do with a tongue that moved like that. She heard his self-satisfied rumble. His hands slid under her shirt and he broke away from her to raise the garment over her head.

It was her turn for doubt as he undressed her and allowed his gaze to travel over her body. She fought the urge to cover herself with her arms. It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen her without clothing. The showers on the old _Normandy_ had been communal and they’d all grown accustomed to ignoring each other’s nudity. However, like her, it was the first time that he’d looked at her and truly seen her. This was not simply curiosity about a different species. This was looking with a purpose. What if he saw nothing to desire? She’d never seen him with even an asari before and she’d heard his jokes about turians with human fetishes. 

It was her turn to say, “If you’d rather find something closer to home yourself, I’d understand.”

He shook his head and said, “Shepard, you’re about the only friend I’ve got left in this screwed-up galaxy. There’s no one I respect more than you. I’ve seen so many things go wrong. I just want something to go right. Just this once. I want you, Shepard. I just don’t feel like I deserve you.”

“Why?” she asked, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his waist. His own came around her and she felt his mandibles brush against her hair.

“I destroy everything I touch, Shepard,” he said quietly. “My work at C-Sec, Omega, my team, my family. I don’t want to destroy you, too.”

She tilted her head back to look at him and said, “Garrus, sweetheart, name one time that we’ve failed when we’ve worked together. You can’t because we haven’t. Shepard and Vakarian. We’re a team. That will never change. If you don’t want me because I’m human or because you simply don’t desire me, I’ll accept that and we’ll go back to the way things were. But if you’re just afraid of getting it wrong, well…I’d rather be nervous with you than completely confident with anyone else. This isn’t about our species. This is about us.”

He smiled at that and said, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you you’re beautiful before you’ll believe it, Shepard, but I mean it. I want you. I want the woman who sent a Reaper back to hell. I want the woman who delivered me from it and called me out of the dark. I want the woman who’s stood by me when no one else ever has. You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

“Then show me,” she said.

He did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end for now. I may flesh this out more as far as his recovery and add some actual sex to it, but for now, I'm going to leave it where it is.


End file.
